Jo's War
by devan
Summary: FINISHED! chapters 14 & 15 posted. please read and review. i want lots of reviews so i can decide where to go now that this story is done.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: M*A*S*H and all its related characters are not my property. Jo, however, is a figment of my imagination, and therefore is mine. This is my first MASH fic, and my first piece of fan fiction in eons. I would appreciate feedback (constructive and complementary), but please be gentle. ************************************************************************  
  
Jo tucked her last t-shirt into her footlocker. She looked around her at the tent filled with cots and footlockers identical to hers. There were clothes strewn around, and pictures on bedside crates. Right now it was empty, except for her, but she knew at night time it would be filled with other nurses. Jo wondered what it would be like to share a room with so many people.  
In the distance, Jo could hear the sound of chopper blades in the distance. Hastily, she put her pictures from home on the crate next to her bed. She struggled to remember which of the buildings contained the O.R. They all looked the same to her. But when she opened the door she realized she only had to do was follow the crowd of people.  
As she approached the jeeps carrying the wounded soldiers from the landing pad, a major barked at her, "Lieutenant - you help out with triage!"  
  
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I don't know what to tell you about it. Victoria, there was blood everywhere. I saw things I don't even remember reading about in school. It was all I could do to just keep breathing. I thought I was going to be sick. I can't get those images out of my mind. If I pause to think before I go to sleep, all I can see are the mangled bodies of boys younger than me. I guess I'm lucky then, because right now we work so hard during the day that I hardly remember getting into bed, let alone those moments of silence before I fall asleep. Not that there is much silence here. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Jo lay on her cot, with the blankets strewn on the floor. The air in the tent was unusually warm and so was the air outside. She could hear the even breathing of the woman in the bed next to hers, and the gentle snoring of the woman at the other end of the room. From the other end of the compound she could hear the voices of officers in their club. Their words were slurred, so she couldn't make out the conversation, but some of them were singing. Somewhere there was a record playing. Jo sighed and rolled onto her side, missing the quiet of her room at home. The day had been long, and Jo couldn't remember for certain if she had eaten lunch. She didn't remember dinner, but the persistent heartburn was reminder enough. She closed her eyes trying to push away the images that fought their way onto the screen of her mind. So long as she was conscious she could fight the impulse to remember what had happened. Finally her eyelids began to droop. She was at home, lying peacefully in her comfortable bed. It was early still, but she had been woken up by a lawnmower outside. She groaned and tried to go back to sleep, but the lawnmower only got louder. She got out of bed and peeked out her bedroom window. The lawnmower was moving closer. A young man, boy really, was pushing it. He had blond curls, and beautifully tanned skin, but there was something not quite right. Jo squinted, not sure if she was really seeing correctly. There was blood on his shirt. She started to call out to him, but he turned away. From behind Jo could tell something was wrong. The back of his head was missing. Jo's eyes snapped open. She was lying on her cot. There was no lawnmower, there was no boy missing half his head, at least not here. Jo stood up and pulled on her clothes. There was no point in lying there trying not to sleep. Quietly she left the room of sleeping nurses and empty cots and walked over to the Officers' Club.  
  
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I'm sorry I haven't written much lately. We have been busy, because the fighting has moved closer to us. I don't know how much to tell you because I can't bear to think that you might have to carry these images with you too. I know that you believe you are grown up, but you are still my baby sister, even if it is only by one year. I still have some responsibilities as your big sister.  
I am still getting to know the people here. Of course it is easiest to get to know the nurses since we're living in such close quarters. Sometimes it's like having so many sisters I don't know what to do with myself. They're friendly enough, and usually we share the things we have. Our head nurse is all right too. She is Real Army, and she likes to go by army rules and regulations. Some of the people here think it's a real drag, but I almost like her predictability. There isn't much here that is predictable.  
Not everyone here is real army, though. There are plenty of draftees, and even some others, like me, who signed up because they thought it would be a good place to get some experience. And I am getting experience. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Jo walked in the door to the Officers' Club. She had been here for two weeks and this was the first time she had entered this particular tent. Jo did not drink, except for one encounter with alcohol that ended badly. No one in her family drank either. Her father forbade alcohol in his house, as did his father.  
"Josephine," he used to say, "alcohol is the drink of the devil. It impairs the judgement and leaves room for Satan himself to make his way into you." Jo almost laughed out loud as she imagined her father's voice booming out in this crowd. In one corner were the men she'd heard singing from her tent. They were leaning against each other, half-propped up in a few chairs.  
A man came up behind her. "Buy you a drink?" he asked.  
"Sure," Jo heard herself reply.  
"What'll you have?"  
Jo tried to think of the drink her boyfriend had ordered for her when she was still in the first year of her nurses' training, but all she could remember was the nausea afterwards. "I'll have what you're having," she responded.  
"Barkeep, another martini, and one for the lady."  
"I haven't seen you here before," he said as the bartender handed him their drinks.  
"No," she paused to take her drink, "I came in only a few days ago."  
Jo took her first sip and felt it burn. She gave a small cough, trying to pretend she did this all the time. The man in front of her raised his eyebrow, and so she put her hand out.  
"I'm Josephine, Josephine Avery, but only my father calls me that. Most people call me Jo."  
"Ah," he said and shook her hand.  
  
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Everyone calls him Hawkeye, though I don't know why. He's the chief surgeon here. I haven't assisted him in the O.R., but I've cared for his patients afterwards. He does good work. Most of the surgeons here do, especially given what they have to work with. But that is not what I was going to tell you about.  
He's tall, and he has dark hair, but it's his eyes I really like. They are a beautiful blue, and they are mischievous. The nurses who have been here awhile all have something to say about him. He has quite the reputation around camp, especially for his pranks. There is something sad about him too. I suppose there is something sad about me too. I don't know if anyone can see what we see here and not be sad. I'm sorry, Victoria, I don't mean to write you about these things. When I sit down to write I try to think about all the funny things I can tell you, but when I start to write they just don't seem so funny anymore. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Jo took slow sips of her drink. At least now she wasn't coughing with each one.  
"You don't drink much, do you?" the doctor asked her after introducing himself.  
"No," Jo blushed. "Is it that obvious?" She hadn't needed him to introduce himself. She had only been there a few weeks, but it was a small place. Even if it weren't, it would have been hard not to hear about Hawkeye.  
Jo let out a soft giggle as she set down the glass. She was tipsy. She could feel the haze clouding her mind, relaxing her body.  
"Earth to Jo," came the voice from beside her and Jo snapped back.  
"I'm sorry," she said.  
"You really are a cheap date," he said, laughing. "I said, would you like to dance?"  
"Sure," she said, unsure it was really a good idea.  
The music was provided by a jukebox pumping out tunes from its place against the wall. Jo stepped out onto the dance floor with Hawkeye. She slipped her hand into his, as he placed his in the small of her back and pulled her in closer. They moved in time to the music, and in synchronization with each other. She could feel his warm breath on her neck, and her stomach flopped. At first she thought is was the drink making her feel sick, but the feeling seemed to ease in between his breaths. She giggled again. Hawkeye moved to dip her, and she let out a soft cry and threw her arms around his neck. He straightened up, pulling Jo with him, and she found her face buried in his chest. "I wouldn't have dropped you, you know," he told her. She took a step back from him, blushing, but stumbled over her own feet and Hawkeye had to catch her. Embarrassed, she pulled herself away.  
"I'm sorry Captain," Jo said, "I must be more tired than I realized. I think that maybe I'd better go back to my tent. Thanks for the drink, though." 


	2. Chapter 2

Please don't tell Mother or Daddy. Mother would be disappointed and Daddy would be furious. I am embarrassed that I could have behaved that way, but things are different here. I am different here.  
  
I know that I promised to write you every week and I am sorry that I haven't. I just don't know what to tell you about. Do you really want to hear about how I had to put my finger inside a bullet hole so that our patient wouldn't bleed to death? Or about how everything here is grey or brown or khaki, except the blood? Sometimes it is just easier to make everything hazy so that the colour, and the days, blend together and I can forget the parts that are just too hard to remember.  
  
Thank you for your letters. You write me faithfully every week, and it is always a joy to receive news from home. It is the one thing I look forward to every week. Please give Mother, Daddy and Carol Ann and Edward my love. I miss you all terribly (yes, even Edward).  
  
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Jo carried the envelope with her. It was a thick envelope that had been carefully addressed to Victoria Avery. She was intending to post it that afternoon before heading into the mess tent. Before she could make her way across the compound, the P.A. blared from a nearby pole. "All personnel. Incoming wounded."  
  
Jo tucked the letter into her back pocket, as she heard the choppers descending on their camp. Now familiar with the procedure, Jo sprinted toward the pre-op tent, where she would begin by preparing the soldiers in worst shape for procedures that would either save them or kill them.  
  
Carefully, Jo drew blood from a young soldier with a belly wound. He was nearly unconscious when he had been brought in to her. He began to whimper. Jo could see a tear slowly make its way down his cheek.  
  
"Hey," she said softly, leaning close to his ear. "Can you hear me?"  
  
"Am I going to die?" he sobbed.  
  
"Take it easy," Jo said, "we're going to take care of you."  
  
Two corpsmen grabbed hold of his stretcher and began to move him into the O.R.  
  
The boy reached out and grabbed her arm so tightly Jo had to stifle a cry. "Don't leave me. Please don't leave me!" he cried. The corpsmen tried to move the stretcher, but stopped when it became apparent that Jo was going to have to move with them.  
  
"What is going on here?" a doctor shouted at Jo. "That man should be in the O.R. Why are you holding him up?"  
  
Jo tried to pull away, as the doctor with no lips sneered at hear. The boy who had attached himself to her arm only tightened his grip.  
  
"Please," he whispered, his voice pleading and soft. Jo wondered how he could muster the strength to hang on to her so forcefully.  
  
Jo tried to pull away again, but she wasn't able to. "I'm, I'm sorry, Major," she stammered. "He won't let go."  
  
"Let me see that," he grumbled, and moved in beside Jo. He grabbed the soldier's wrist, and Jo's arm and tried to force them apart. Jo yelped in pain and the soldier moaned and the doctor's hands tightened their grip.  
  
Another doctor pushed his way in behind the Major. "Frank, what are you doing?"  
  
"Me?" he retorted. "It's this nurse you should be talking to. She won't let this soldier go into the O.R."  
  
"He won't let go. He asked me to stay with him," Jo explained. The soldier was still moaning, and Jo's arm was aching from the hand still firmly wrapped around it. "Let go, you're hurting him."  
  
"I am your superior officer, and you will address me as 'sir'," he snapped.  
  
"Yes, sir. Please let go, sir, you're hurting him." Jo's voice was cool, somewhere between pleading and sarcastic.  
  
"Frank, do what she says. We need to get this kid into O.R." came the calm voice, filled with authority not bestowed by rank.  
  
"But he won't let go," the first doctor whined.  
  
"I don't see why we can't bring her along for the ride." Frank let go of Jo's arm and the soldier's wrist. "After you Lieutenant."  
  
The lights in the O.R. were harsh, and Jo had to squint until her eyes adjusted to the glare from the lamps above stainless steel tables.  
  
"It's okay, kid," the doctor said to the boy now lying on the table, "she's not going to leave you." When the boy didn't let go, he motioned to the anaesthetist. "Let's put him under."  
  
As the anaesthetist held the mask over the boy's face, Jo spoke softly to him. "Just take deep breaths, I won't leave."  
  
After a few breaths, Jo's arm was free. She rubbed it gently with her other hand, already seeing bruises from his fingers.  
  
"Margaret? Let's get this nurse scrubbed up and ready for surgery."  
  
"Yes Captain," the head nurse replied and led Jo off to get ready to assist in the operation.  
  
Jo had spent hours on her feet in the O.R. They ached, and so did her back. The bruises on her arm had been throbbing for over an hour, but she tried to ignore the pain so that she could concentrate on the patient on the table in front of her.  
  
As she stepped outside, the fresh air hit her. It was still hot out, but the air was not stale, as it had been in the O.R., and it didn't have the metallic smell of blood.  
  
"Buy you a cup of coffee?" came a voice from behind her.  
  
Jo flinched. "Captain Hunnicut," she stuttered, "I, I didn't realize that you were behind me."  
  
"I'm sorry, Lieutenant, I didn't mean to startle you. Please, call me B.J."  
  
"It's alright, Capt - I mean, B.J. I guess I'm just tired."  
  
"You did some nice work in here, Lieutenant."  
  
"Thank you, sir. Please call me Jo."  
  
"Certainly, Jo. Now, how's about that cup of coffee? I know a place near-by, and if you don't swallow anything, chances are good it won't kill you."  
  
"Thank you, B.J., but I'll have to pass. I just wanted some fresh air before going back in to sit with that soldier you worked on. I did promise that I wouldn't leave him."  
  
Jo woke up because her back was so sore. She was slumped in a chair. It took her a moment to realize that she was in post-op, and another moment to remember why she was waiting there.  
  
The soldier lying in the cot was sleeping. His stomach was bandaged carefully. Jo stood up and stretched. She picked up the chart at the end of the bed. She had spent the night at the side of his bed and she didn't even know his name. She picked up the chart, hanging at the end of the bed. Archibald, Robert, Pte., it read. She looked at the sleeping boy. He couldn't have been much more than eighteen, only three years younger than Jo, but he seemed so young, so innocent. She imagined his mother called him Rob, maybe even Robby.  
  
B.J. was coming around the beds, checking on the patients. As he approached, he reached out for the chart. Jo passed it over to him.  
  
"How is he?" she asked.  
  
"It's still touch and go. He was pretty badly wounded, lost a lot of blood. But he's a fighter." He gestured to the bruises on Jo's arm. "I guess you know that already."  
  
Jo looked down at her arm. "It looks worse than it feels. Really."  
  
"Look," B.J. told her, "you've still got a couple of hours to grab a shower, some sleep or something to eat. Why don't you take a break? I promise to keep an eye on him."  
  
Jo was about to decline the offer when her stomach grumbled. It wasn't often that she wanted to eat here. In the month and a half that she had been living here in Korea she had lost nearly ten pounds. "Thank you," she said. She looked down at the soldier. "I'll be back. I promise," she told him before she left the tent.  
  
Her stomach full, Jo lay down on her cot. The air was still hot, and the cot offered little in the way of comfort, but Jo fell asleep quickly. When she woke someone was shaking her shoulder gently.  
  
"Jo, you'd better get up. Your shift started ten minutes ago," the pretty young nurse said.  
  
Jo moaned and slid out of bed. Her eyes stung from lack of sleep. "Thank you, Bonnie."  
  
Jo made her way through the post-op ward. She was about to check in with the nurse whose shift was finishing when she felt a hand on her shoulder.  
  
When she turned around, she saw the sad face of the doctor she had worked with the night before. "No," she whispered, looking toward the bed that Robert Archibald had occupied only hours earlier. It was empty. Jo's eyes welled with tears and she turned to leave the ward. B.J. caught her arm and she cried out in pain. He let go of her immediately, and she ran from the room, his apology echoing behind her.  
  
Behind the tent, Jo reached into her pocket for a handkerchief, but instead found the letter for Victoria. The envelope was rounded from having been in her pocket for so long, and one corner had some blood on it. She took the envelope in both hands and tore it into tiny pieces. 


	3. Chapter 3

It didn't take B.J. long to find Jo. She was slumped against the outer wall of post-op. Her head was buried in her hands. The surgeon gently shook her shoulder. When she looked up, her eyes met his. They were gentle eyes, filled with care and concern, and Jo deserved neither.  
  
He sat down next to Jo.  
  
"What happened?" Jo asked.  
  
"He lost a lot of blood. We gave him some more, but it just wasn't enough. He went into shock. I'm sorry Jo, he just slipped away."  
  
"I - I promised. I told him he would be okay, and I promised not to leave him."  
  
He sighed. "You did everything you could. More, even, than others would have. You made him feel comfortable, safe. The last thing he saw was a pretty nurse, holding his hand, telling him everything would be all right."  
  
"I lied," she whispered, looking down into her hands. "I lied."  
  
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It's been nearly two months since I've been here. Some days I can't believe I've actually been here that long. Others I can't believe it hasn't been longer.  
  
I promised to tell you about the people here. Some of them haven't been here much longer than me. Our commanding officer is new. Not to me, but to the others who have been here longer. I only hear bits and pieces about the C.O. who was here before. I know that he died when he was supposed to be going home. Colonel Potter is a good man. He reminds me of Grandpa Miller. Do you remember Grandpa Miller? Maybe you were too young to remember him. He used to give you a pat on the head and tell you to be a good girl, and you could tell, just by looking at him that he loved you.  
  
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"Jo," B.J. called across the mess tent. Jo looked up from the supposed food being scooped onto her tray. "Come join us." He gestured to an empty space at his table. He was sitting with Hawkeye.  
  
Jo let the cook finish scooping the slop onto the metal tray in her hands. She hesitated briefly, eyeing the other available seats in the mess tent. Most tables were filled to capacity. Jo sighed and slowly made her way over to the table. B.J. had been kind to her, but Jo could see the concern in his eyes when he looked at her and it made her uncomfortable.  
  
She paused briefly to make sure that she had balanced her cup of coffee on her tray. As she approached the table, her shoulder grazed against the back of another officer.  
  
"Watch where you're going!" he snapped, turning around. Jo flinched as she realized that the man she had bumped into was Major Frank Burns, the same surgeon who had so painfully tried to pry Private Archibald's hand from Jo's arm.  
  
"Frank," Hawkeye started, beginning to stand, but a voice from behind Major Burns cut him off.  
  
"Frank, I'm sure it was an accident."  
  
"Margaret," he whined. "She probably did it on purpose. It's the same nurse who refused to let a wounded man go into the O.R. I practically had to pry her away from him so the corpsmen could carry him into the O.R. She's just trying to make me look foolish."  
  
"It's not hard to do," Jo heard Hawkeye interject, but her focus was on Major Houlihan. The head nurse was looking at Jo, at her arm, to be exact. Jo became acutely aware of the now yellowing bruises she had on her forearm.  
  
"Frank! Did you do this?"  
  
"Well - I... I'm not sure," the man stammered in response. "I may have."  
  
Jo remembered the hands that had left their mark on her arm. They were the hands of a young man who she had promised to stay with. She sucked in a deep breath and tried to forget what his face looked like.  
  
"Keep your hands off of my nurses!" she ordered, and walked out of the mess tent.  
  
Major Burns trailed after her, whining. "But Margaret..."  
  
Jo sat down and placed her tray on the table in front of her. Her coffee had spilled a little when she had bumped into Major Burns. Some of it had mixed in with what looked to be mushy peas. Jo took a tentative taste and decided that the coffee hadn't improved the peas, but it hadn't made them any worse. She pushed the food around the tray a bit before looking up to find B.J. and Hawkeye staring at her.  
  
"Are you okay?" B.J. asked her.  
  
"Fine. That was nothing. I should have been watching where I was going."  
  
"Nonsense," Hawkeye said. "Let me see your arm. What the hell did Frank do to you?"  
  
Jo pushed her arm under the table. "It's nothing really. It's fine. My arm doesn't even hurt anymore." She couldn't bring herself to contradict the rumour that Major Burns had left the bruises on her arm.  
  
"Let me make sure. If he hurt you..." But Hawkeye was cut off by a less than subtle kick under the table. "Ow!" he exclaimed, glaring at B.J. from across the table.  
  
"Look, Jo, if there's anything you need..." B.J. offered.  
  
"I'm fine, okay?" Jo snapped. She stood and began to turn, her tray of half-eaten food held out in front of her. The tray slammed into the arm of a short man standing behind her, coffee spilling onto Jo's shirt and pants.  
  
"Radar!" she exclaimed.  
  
"Lieutenant, sir. I mean ma'am. I'm sorry. Let me help you."  
  
"No, Radar, it's okay."  
  
"I have a letter for you. I thought you'd want to read it. It might cheer you up."  
  
Jo cringed. News travelled quickly around camp. She wished there was somewhere private where she could go to be miserable. Jo wasn't used to having her sadness become public knowledge and it embarrassed her. They all saw the same things here, but no one else was crying themselves to sleep because they couldn't get the face of a dead soldier out of their minds.  
  
"Thank you, Radar," Jo said, setting down her tray so that she could tuck the letter in her pocket before leaving the mess tent.  
  
Jo had almost reached the nurses' tent when someone put their hand on her shoulder.  
  
"I said I'm fine!" Jo snapped. She turned, exasperated, expecting to find B.J. or Hawkeye. Instead she was met by the kind eyes of her commanding officer.  
  
"I'm glad to hear it, Lieutenant. I wonder then, if I might have a word."  
  
"Sir, I'm so sorry. I thought - I thought you were someone else."  
  
"Shall we walk and talk?" he asked.  
  
"Okay," Jo said warily.  
  
"Lieutenant, it's been brought to my attention that you might have been, er, assaulted by Major Burns."  
  
Jo followed his gaze to the bruises on her arm. "No, sir. He didn't do that. A soldier did that because he didn't want me to leave him." Jo felt tears sting her eyes and she looked up so that they wouldn't spill over.  
  
"What happened?"  
  
By now they had reached the edge of the compound and had stopped walking. The clatter of the camp was behind them.  
  
"He was young. Younger than me. And scared. He didn't want me to leave him. He didn't let go until we put him under. Major Burns thought I was holding him up in pre-op, but I didn't mean to. Every time someone threatened to pull me away from him, his grip tightened. I guess that's how I wound up with these." She gestured to her arm.  
  
"What happened to him?"  
  
Jo looked into the Colonel's eyes. The tears in her own eyes threatened to spill over. He knew what happened. She could tell he knew.  
  
He didn't break her gaze, but when she didn't speak he asked, "What was his name?"  
  
Jo's bottom lip began to tremble. She began to cry. It was a quiet crying, but the tears streamed down her cheeks, leaving trails through the grime. Jo turned away from the man beside her.  
  
"I'm sorry, sir," she whispered.  
  
"Nothing to be sorry about, Lieutenant. No shame in crying." He handed her a handkerchief. "It's highly admirable to care so much for the patients. But the sad fact of the matter is, we're at war here, and there are some boys we just can't save. You need to find something, some way of letting go. You keep carrying every soldier you lose with you and you'll be no good to the ones you can save."  
  
"Thank you, sir," Jo said, wiping her cheeks and handing him the handkerchief.  
  
"You can always go talk to the Padre..."  
  
"I'm not Catholic," Jo cut him off.  
  
"I'm sure the Padre wouldn't mind. And my door is always open."  
  
"Thank you, sir."  
  
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Victoria, I know you wonder why I don't write. It's not that I don't write. I just can't send the letters. Nothing I could tell you about what happens here would seem real. I know it doesn't to me. Everyone here seems to find some way to live with themselves and what they see. Some of them drink. Some seek comfort in the arms of another. Some do both. Some take comfort in religion. I write you these letters. 


	4. Chapter 4

Jo sat on the side of her cot. The letter from her sister had taken her by surprise. The letters came every week, despite the fact that she hadn't sent one letter in reply. Occasionally there were letters tucked inside from her mother as well, but most often it was just Victoria reporting the news from home.  
  
Jo set the paper on her lap and began her reply.  
  
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Victoria, I don't believe that Carol Ann didn't tell me she was going to have a baby! Did she tell you when she was planning on telling me? Don't worry, I won't tell anyone that I know. Not that it really matters, since no one here knows our family and I don't write to anyone but you.  
  
It is hard to imagine Carol Ann and Edward with a baby. Mother must be ecstatic. I know how much she has wanted a grandchild. How is Daddy taking it? I know that he doesn't like Edward, but Carol Ann has always been his favourite.  
  
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Jo set down her pen. She wanted to say that it was hard to imagine new life in a place so filled with death. She picked up the pen again, trying to think of something light for her reply.  
  
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I wonder who the baby will look like. If he is lucky, he won't look anything like Edward. Don't tell Carol Ann I said that, though. I know he's a good man. He's just a bit of a bore. Of course, there is something about the chaos here that makes boring seem more appealing. Maybe when I come home I will like him more...  
  
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Jo set down her pen again. If she came home, she thought. She sighed and tucked the letter she was writing under her cot. She lay on her back and closed her eyes. Her eyelids were just beginning to flutter with the suggestion of a dream when the P.A. broke through the normal camp noises. Jo's eyes flew open.  
  
"All personnel, we've got incoming wounded! All shifts report for duty."  
  
In an instant, Jo was on the edge of her cot, slipping her feet into boots she wouldn't bother to tie. Her feet slipped in and out of them with each stride as she ran to take her place in pre-op.  
  
After the first four hours, Jo fell into a routine in the O.R. The floor was slick with blood in places, and used sponges littered the ground. Carefully she avoided them, moving as the doctors needed or directed her to. She handed over the requested instruments quickly, efficiently, not even bothering to mutter "Yes Doctor," anymore.  
  
"Hold that."  
  
Jo reached in with one hand and put a finger over the hole. She could feel the blood pump past her finger, travelling from the heart to the rest of the soldier's body, but it was no longer pouring out.  
  
"Why wasn't this kid brought in here sooner?" And in the next breath, "Retraction!"  
  
Jo carefully pulled back the skin with the retractor so that the doctor could get a better look.  
  
"I'm going to need to do an arterial graft. Nurse!" Jo began to move, but a hand caught her arm.  
  
Blue eyes met hers with an intensity that shocked her. "Not you. I need you to keep your finger on that hole. Margaret, I need another nurse over here."  
  
Jo remembered the rhythmic beating just beneath her finger. The soldier's life was literally in her hands. His pulse was strangely comforting to feel, a constant reminder that the patient was still alive.  
  
After six hours Jo's back and neck ached so badly she didn't think she could continue standing. But she did. She had worked on several patients since the arterial graft. For the past hour her job mainly consisted of providing suction when necessary and wiping the doctor's forehead. Her eyes were getting bleary. If it was possible, Jo felt she might sleep standing right there.  
  
"Scratch my nose," the doctor instructed her. His gloved hands were carefully stitching, mending the damage done by shrapnel.  
  
"Ah," the doctor sighed. "That's it, right there. Don't stop."  
  
From behind her surgical mask, Jo blushed. The blue eyes behind the other surgical mask grinned back at her.  
  
After eight hours Jo's back and neck no longer ached, but then she couldn't feel them. At times her hands were numb too, making it difficult to hand over the surgical tools. She fumbled a couple of times, hoping the doctor and other nurses working at the table didn't notice.  
  
Fortunately the wounded were trickling in, and the only soldiers left were those whose injuries weren't as severe. They had gone into surgery before sunset. An hour ago, the day shift had retired to their tents for a few hours sleep before they took over again.  
  
Jo's head began to drop and she struggled to keep her eyes open.  
  
"You think you can close?" the doctor across from her asked.  
  
Jo's eyes were wide open and her head snapped up. She moaned and moved her head from side to side.  
  
"I can help you take care of that kink in your neck later. Do you think you can close?"  
  
Jo nodded gently and took in a deep breath. Carefully began to work on closing up the patient's incision.  
  
Glad to have the day off, Jo lay down on her cot. There was one other nurse in the tent, breathing softly and regularly in sleep. Her eyes ached. She had been awake for over twenty-four hours, if you didn't count the ten-minute nap she took after dinner. She was exhausted, but even after half an hour she couldn't fall asleep. Her stomach grumbled as her nose caught the scent of something similar to food coming from the mess tent.  
  
She gave a frustrated sigh and tried to push herself up off of the cot. Searing pain shot through her arms and shoulders and she yelped. She grunted and carefully rolled herself off of the cot.  
  
She knocked softly on the door to the Swamp, as it was called. She was prepared to walk away; its occupants were probably deep in sleep.  
  
"Go away, I'm sleeping," a groggy voice mumbled from inside.  
  
"I'm sorry," Jo called, beginning to turn around.  
  
"Just a minute," the voice answered. A few moments later a lanky man in a red robe opened the door.  
  
"I'm sorry," Jo repeated. "I wanted to take you up on your offer."  
  
"Offer?" Hawkeye asked.  
  
"My neck. I can barely move. But, I'll come back later."  
  
"No," Hawkeye said, rubbing his eyes. "Now is fine."  
  
He opened the door and let her walk in. She stood, wooden and uncomfortable, in the middle of the tent. The space seemed divided into two. Jo wasn't quite sure where she should sit.  
  
Hawkeye dropped himself onto the middle of the cot, and gestured for her to sit next to him. Jo obliged, her stomach tensing.  
  
"Something to drink?" Hawkeye asked, motioning to the homemade still.  
  
"No!" Jo exclaimed. "It's not even noo..." her voice trailed off as Hawkeye picked up a glass and took a drink.  
  
He put his glass down and pushed her dark hair aside and began to rub her shoulders. Jo grimaced at the added weight on her sore muscles. Yet even through her shirt, she could feel his strong hands. Her heart beat quickly and her stomach flopped. It left her with a strangely hollow feeling inside.  
  
His hands were warm, and Jo could feel her muscles relaxing as he kneaded them. His hands moved up, and pushed aside her shirt collar. Jo's shoulders instinctively lifted, as though it tickled, when his hands found her bare neck. She winced, as pain shot through her muscles once again, but gentle hands carefully relaxed her.  
  
He moved in closer. Jo could feel his warm breath on her neck. She hadn't thought it possible for her heart to beat any faster, but when his lips touched her skin she felt as though her chest might explode. Her whole body froze.  
  
"You know," he mumbled into her neck, not noticing her tension, "this would be a lot easier if you took off your shirt."  
  
"Hawkeye!" Jo pulled away. "I didn't think... I - I can't... I'm sorry," she stammered, now on her feet.  
  
"Jo, I..." Hawkeye began, but Jo was already at the door.  
  
"I'm sorry," she said again, before leaving the Swamp. 


	5. Chapter 5

Sorry about the wait on this one - I've been wrestling with a case of writer's block...  
  
******************************************************************  
  
The corners of Jo's mouth twitched, as she tired not to smirk. The man she was handing the samples to was wearing a light pink dress.  
  
"Take these straight to the lab, please, Corporal," Jo told him. Even after all this time she felt strange about giving orders to people older than her.  
  
"It's a lovely dress, Klinger," the nurse across the room called.  
  
Jo grinned, and so did the man in front of her.  
  
"Thank you, Lieutenant," he said on his way out the door.  
  
"You know," the other nurse said, "we're almost off. Do you have any plans for tonight?"  
  
"I'm going to the movie tonight," Jo answered, blushing.  
  
"Why don't you take off early? I can cover for you until our replacements shows up," she offered.  
  
"Thanks, Bonnie. Are you sure that's okay?"  
  
"Sure, Jo. I'll catch up with you later."  
  
"I really owe you one."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
I don't know why he invited me to the movies. In truth, I don't know why I accepted. I felt like such a fool after last night. I am so naïve. I feel so embarrassed about how I acted - like I expected him to be different from the stories that circulate around camp. Why didn't I realize what he wanted? And why do I feel the way I do when I'm around him?  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Jo busied herself with her hair. There was still half an hour before she was supposed to meet Hawkeye for the movie. She had finally settled on an outfit, but now she struggled to style her hair. After months of ponytails, Jo couldn't remember how she used to do her hair for special occasions.  
  
"Come here," Bonnie said, gesturing for Jo to sit.  
  
Jo obeyed, and sat on the floor in front of Bonnie. Bonnie took Jo's hair in her hands.  
  
"Who are you going to the movies with?" she asked.  
  
Jo's cheeks coloured, and she looked down at the ground.  
  
"Keep your head up," Bonnie admonished. "So, who is he?"  
  
"I'm meeting up with Hawkeye," Jo admitted.  
  
"I never figured you for one of those nurses," Bonnie said.  
  
"What do you mean?" Jo asked, her face burning.  
  
"As if you don't know," Bonnie said cheekily. Before Jo had a chance to ask again, Bonnie gave her hair one last tug. "There," she declared, "finished."  
  
Jo stood up and carefully felt her hair, as she made her way to the small mirror hanging on the tent pole. Bonnie had pulled her hair back out of her face into a tidy French roll. Jo smiled at her reflection when she saw how much older she looked.  
  
There was a knock on the door.  
  
"I'll get it." Bonnie jumped up. She opened the door a crack and poked her head out. "She's just about ready," Jo heard her say.  
  
Bonnie handed her some lipstick. "Final touch."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
I don't remember much of the movie. What I do remember is the warmth of his thigh resting against mine that seemed to make me feel both hot and cold at the same time. I remember the way his breath felt on my neck when he leaned in to whisper to me. I remember how tight my stomach felt and how I didn't seem to know how best to sit for the movie.  
  
Victoria, I don't remember feeling like this when I am with anyone else. I think that the war intensifies everything here. Sometimes it almost scares me. When I used to go out with William, I remember feeling butterflies in my stomach, but it was nothing like how I feel when I am with Hawkeye.  
  
I did find out why he invited me...  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Jo stiffened when he kissed her, but she didn't pull away. Hawkeye slipped his hand around, onto the small of her back and gently pulled her in closer. Jo was keenly aware of the heat given off by Hawkeye's hand. Her mind raced. She shouldn't be doing this, or at least, she shouldn't be enjoying it so much.  
  
Between kisses, Hawkeye mumbled, "I know this place..."  
  
Jo let him draw her in even closer. He gave her shirt a tug and she could feel his skin on her own. Jo pulled away, her eyes wide.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Sometimes I worry that I won't be able to control myself. I feel so helpless when I am close to him and I keep making excuses to be near him. War changes people. It has changed me. I feel like I have grown years older, even though I have only been here a few months. I am trying to remember the person that I was, and the person I am supposed to be.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"How was the movie?" Bonnie asked.  
  
Jo looked up from her letter. "Hmm?"  
  
"I'm sorry - did you even see the movie?"  
  
"Of course," Jo answered, looking curiously at Bonnie. She could feel the heat of a blush making its way up her face and settling into her cheeks.  
  
"Right," said Bonnie, winking. "What was it about then?"  
  
"It - I..." Jo stammered.  
  
"You're blushing," Bonnie told her and Jo's cheeks reddened even more. "I never thought you would be one of those girls, but I guess I had you wrong."  
  
"What do you mean?" Jo asked, staring blankly at Bonnie.  
  
Bonnie looked at her carefully. "You really don't know?"  
  
"No," said Jo, exasperated. "Please tell me, what kind of girl do you think I am?"  
  
"Don't take this the wrong way. You just seemed so innocent, so, I don't know, clean. I don't know... you seem so virginal."  
  
"You think I slept with him?" asked Jo. She didn't think her cheeks could get any redder, but by now, she imagined, they were so red the enemy could probably see them and was getting ready to target their tent.  
  
"Didn't you?"  
  
"No!" exclaimed an indignant Jo. "I believe that's something a man and woman should wait until marriage for." She sounded so much like her father she almost turned to see if it was actually him speaking instead of her. "I mean, he tried... But, I would never..." Jo moaned, realizing what a fool she'd made of herself.  
  
"You know, Jo, not everyone here will be alive to get married. Things are different here. It's not like back home where you have the luxury of waiting to really live. Here you take everything one day at a time and you don't take a single moment for granted."  
  
Jo looked at Bonnie. The other nurse's face had become serious. "What are you talking about?" Jo said, giving her friend a playful shove. "Of course we'll get married. Just you wait and see. I expect an invitation, too, you know."  
  
Bonnie smiled back at Jo with her mouth, but her forehead was still wrinkled. "Of course. I expect an invitation from you, too." 


	6. Chapter 6

Having Bonnie here is almost like having you here. We all live in such close quarters that it's often like having one huge family. We squabble sometimes, but we always make up because we are stuck with each other. But Bonnie is like a sister to me.  
  
She reminds me of you, actually. The way she talks sometimes makes me feel like I am talking to you. She even looks like you, with her auburn hair and fair skin. Sometimes when it's late and everyone in the tent is sleeping, I look over and I can imagine it's you sleeping in the cot across the room and it is like I am at home.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"You know, you have to talk to him sometime. It's a small place, it's not as though you can avoid him forever."  
  
"Sometime," Jo said, "but not now."  
  
"Soon," Bonnie told her. "I can't keep fending him off."  
  
"I know Bonnie. I know. I just can't right now."  
  
They walked into the mess tent together and joined the line. Each holding a tray, they waited to be served. The man behind the so-called food scooped out something that looked suspiciously like beans, but Jo doubted that was really what they were. As they left the line, Hawkeye waved to them. Jo turned and headed for a table that was nearly full.  
  
"Jo, that table is full," said Bonnie, exasperated. "Why can't we just sit over there with Hawkeye and B.J.?"  
  
"Bonnie, please?" Jo pleaded.  
  
Bonnie clenched her teeth. "Fine," she grumbled and they squeezed in between some nurses and enlisted men at the other table.  
  
Neither nurse ate much food. They pushed the mush around their plates and sipped on lukewarm coffee in near silence. Finally Bonnie stood up.  
  
"I'm going to grab a shower before my shift starts," she announced and walked off before Jo could object.  
  
Jo pushed herself up from the table and was about to turn around when she felt someone standing behind her.  
  
"Lieutenant?"  
  
Jo let out a breath. The voice did not belong to Hawkeye. "Yes Radar?"  
  
"Uh, I have your mail here."  
  
"Thank you Radar."  
  
"I also have Lieutenant MacNeil's mail here too, but I can't find her anywhere."  
  
"She's in the shower Radar."  
  
"Oh," came the soft reply. Radar squirmed. "Well, maybe you could take her this letter."  
  
"Fine. Leave it with me. I'll make sure she gets it."  
  
"Gee, thanks Lieutenant." Radar said passing a second letter to Jo.  
  
Jo returned her tray and left for her tent, letters in hand. Inside she set the letter for Bonnie on her cot and was about to sit on her own cot to read the letter when she noticed that the letter wasn't addressed to Bonnie.  
  
It was addressed to Lieutenant MacNeil, but it was not addressed to Lieutenant Bonnie MacNeil. Jo examined the careful script. The name on the envelope was Lieutenant Mary E. MacNeil.  
  
Jo thought about tracking Radar down to return the letter, but thought better of going out into the compound alone. Ever since her date with Hawkeye, Jo had avoided being alone so that Hawkeye couldn't corner her.  
  
Instead she settled herself on her own bunk and began to read her own letter.  
  
The door flew open.  
  
"Ugh!" complained Bonnie. "I think it's been years since I've had a hot shower, but somehow I still manage to be disappointed when the water comes out cold."  
  
Jo looked up and smiled.  
  
"News from home?" Bonnie asked, nodding to the letter in Jo's hands.  
  
"Yes. A letter from my sister."  
  
Bonnie began towelling her hair vigorously.  
  
"Wait - before I forget. Radar gave me a letter. Told me it was for you, but it's addressed to a Mary MacNeil. Do you know who that is?"  
  
Bonnie gave a laugh. "That's me."  
  
"You never told me that Bonnie wasn't your real name," Jo accused.  
  
Bonnie smiled. "My father used to call me his 'bonnie lass.' I guess it stuck and it got shortened to Bonnie. My given name is Mary Elizabeth. Until I came here only my family called me Bonnie."  
  
"So, why did we get this honour?"  
  
"It makes me feel more like I'm at home. While I'm here, these people are the closest I have to family."  
  
"I know what you mean."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
She's right, you know. And I know it too. She has that unnerving way of telling me the truth, even when I don't want to hear it. Especially when I don't want to hear it. Just like you do, Victoria.  
  
I need to talk to Hawkeye. Clear the air, so to speak. Obviously I can't keep avoiding him. Eventually we will bump into each other, have to work side by side. I am just so self-conscious when I am with him. I don't know why I should care what he thinks of me, but I do. There is something about him. I can't quite describe it. As much as he hates being here, he is the heart of this place. I can't imagine it here without him.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
There was a knock at the door. Jo fought the urge to hide under the covers like she did as a small child. She sat still on the cot, so Bonnie stood up.  
  
"I'll get it," she offered sarcastically.  
  
Bonnie opened the door and stood in the opening. Jo listened to the conversation from her place on her cot.  
  
"She's, um, out," Bonnie said, glancing back at Jo and Jo could tell who was at the door.  
  
"She's in there, isn't she?" Hawkeye asked Bonnie. His hand came around the door and pulled it open. He stepped in. "Mind if I come in?" he asked belatedly.  
  
Bonnie shrugged and mouthed "Sorry," to Jo.  
  
Hawkeye sat down on a cot, across from Jo. "Look, I just want to talk," he told her. "I promise to keep my hands to myself."  
  
"Well, I'll give you two some privacy," said Bonnie, leaving the tent before Jo could stop her.  
  
Jo looked at her feet and scuffed her boots on the ground.  
  
"I get the distinct impression that you've been avoiding me. Maybe that's because you've been avoiding me." Hawkeye paused, as though he expected Jo to respond. When she remained silent, he continued. "If I did something wrong, I want to know about it so I can apologize."  
  
"Captain," Jo sighed.  
  
"So, now we're back to addressing each other by rank. Tell me then, Lieutenant. What exactly is wrong? First you agree to go out with me, you even come to my tent, but every time I touch you, you act as though I've hurt you. Plus I had to bribe your bodyguard just to sit down alone with you to talk."  
  
Jo's back stiffened, and so did her voice. "Captain," she said. "I am not that kind of girl. I don't know what you were expecting. Some people here think that because we are in a different place we are entitled to become different people." Jo knew she had started to lecture, but she could not stop herself. Even as she spoke she heard her father's voice echoing in her head. "I will not betray my values."  
  
Jo thought she could actually see Hawkeye blush. Her own cheeks burned crimson with anger and humiliation. Hawkeye stood then; his arms and legs seemed lankier than usual as he shifted from side to side.  
  
"Well," he said. "Glad to have cleared that up. I'm sorry for whatever I might have done to offend your sense of morality. In my own defence though, you did agree to go out with me. Don't get up. I'll see myself out."  
  
"Well," Jo moaned when she was alone in the tent once again, "I think that went well, don't you?" 


	7. Chapter 7

"Lieutenant! Lieutenant!"  
  
Jo turned to find the young man running up to her. "Radar?"  
  
"Lieutenant," he panted. In his hand he clenched a piece of paper. He took several deep breaths and held it up to her. "Lieutenant, this came for you. I thought you would want to see it right away."  
  
Jo grabbed the paper. Holding it up, she began to read.  
  
WE ARE PLEASED TO ANNOUNCE THE BIRTH OF EDWARD ANDREW BRYANT. LETTER AND PHOTO TO FOLLOW.  
  
Jo grinned and grabbed Radar's shoulders. "Do you know what this means?"  
  
"No sir. I mean ma'am. I mean I didn't read it. I mean I didn't mean to."  
  
"It's okay Radar. And call me Jo. No, this," Jo shook the paper, "this means that I am an aunt!"  
  
"Congratulations, ma'am - I mean Jo," Radar said. "Hey that's really terrific."  
  
"I can't believe it. I've got to find Bonnie! I promised I'd tell her right away. Do you know where she is?"  
  
Jo looked at Radar, but he stared back blankly.  
  
"Radar? Did you hear me? Do you know where... No," Jo said, realizing what he was listening to. "It's the choppers, isn't it?"  
  
"Choppers!" Radar answered, running toward the middle of the compound.  
  
Throughout the night, the fighting drew closer. As shells exploded in the compound, more and more wounded poured in. Whenever there was a spare moment, Jo snuck a nap. Often she caught ten or fifteen minutes before someone was shaking her awake.  
  
"Jo? Jo, I'm real sorry, but you gotta get up. There are more wounded coming in."  
  
"It's okay Radar," Jo said, rubbing her eyes and getting up from the corner she had found to curl up in. She ran a hand through her hair. It was greasy and, Jo imagined, stringy. She couldn't remember her last shower. Her teeth were mossy and her stomach growled. She paused, leaning in the corner. She could feel her eyes rolling back as their lids closed.  
  
"Jo?"  
  
Her eyes snapped open. "Coming, Radar."  
  
"We're ready for another one!" B.J. called.  
  
Jo leaned against the table. Her eyes were heavy. States-side she never would have been allowed in the operating room if she were this tired. Here she was just one of many tired nurses and doctors. She gave her head a shake and forced her eyes wide.  
  
"Scalpel!"  
  
"Scalpel," Jo repeated. Her eyes couldn't focus on the instrument tray. She found the scalpel by instinct, rather than recognition.  
  
"Jo, how long have you been on?" B.J. asked her.  
  
"Not as long as you. Nearly sixteen hours, I think."  
  
"I had a break four hours ago when things slowed down a bit."  
  
"I was on-duty in post-op then," Jo replied.  
  
"Take a break," B.J. told her.  
  
"I'm fine," objected Jo.  
  
"You're exhausted. Margaret, get me another nurse!"  
  
Jo didn't move, even when the head nurse came up beside her at the table.  
  
"Lieutenant, take a break. That's an order."  
  
Jo stepped back from the table, and backed out of the operating room. Somehow she made her way back to her tent and found her cot. The camp was still being shelled and the artillery punctured her sleep. The tent was pitch black, with all the screens covered heavily.  
  
The ground shook and Jo sat up from her sleep. For a moment she was blind as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. Jo lay back down. It had been close - closer that Jo had ever experienced or wanted to experience. She closed her eyes, trying to ignore the explosions all around her. Another one hit and Jo felt her cot shake. She pulled the covers over her head and began to pray.  
  
Our Father, who art in heaven (another explosion), hallowed be thy name. Thy Kingdom come (this time even closer), thy will be done (she pretended not to hear the screams and splintering wood) on earth as it is in heaven.  
  
Jo paused. The door swung open and Jo could see the light streaming into the tent, even though she was under her blanket.  
  
"Jo? You in here?" It was Radar, and his voice was shaking.  
  
"She's sleeping, Radar," came the reply from across the tent. Jo was surprised to hear anyone else. It had been so dark when she had collapsed in her cot she just assumed that she was alone.  
  
"Bonnie? Is that you?" Jo could almost hear Radar blinking as his eyes adjusted to the dark tent.  
  
"Yes Radar. What do you need?"  
  
"Major Houlihan sent me to get Lieutenant Avery. They need another nurse and the Major said to get Jo."  
  
"I'll go Radar. I'm already awake. No point in waking her up too." Bonnie paused. Jo could still see the light through the weave of her blanket. "I'll meet you over there Radar, I just need to put on some pants."  
  
"Oh, gee. Right. I mean, yes sir, er, ma'am," Radar stuttered as he stumbled from the tent.  
  
Jo waited for the door to slam shut a second time, as Bonnie left the tent, and closed her eyes again. Here in her cot she was safe and she didn't plan on moving.  
  
There was another explosion, perhaps the closest one yet. Jo gripped the sides of her cot, waiting for the shaking to subside. It took her a moment to realize that the ground had stopped shaking and that it was her own trembling that was continuing to shake the cot.  
  
The door to the tent crashed open again and Jo flinched under her blanket.  
  
"Jo, you gotta come quick!" There was a note of urgency in Radar's voice.  
  
Reluctantly, Jo left the safety her cot and blankets provided.  
  
"They said to go straight to the O.R.. That last blast injured a couple of people on the compound." Radar ran out of the tent as Jo quickly shoved her feet into boots.  
  
Under the bright lights in the O.R., Jo saw something that made her heart stop. On one of the metal operating tables, lay a paler version of her friend. Bonnie's clothes were covered in dirt and soot and blood. Jo's face drained of colour.  
  
"Jo! Get over here," Hawkeye instructed her. "Give me a hand."  
  
Jo helped to pull back Bonnie's shirt to reveal the source of the blood. "Oh God," she gasped.  
  
"There's nothing we can do," Hawkeye said quietly.  
  
Jo watched as the corpsmen moved her friend from the operating room and fill her space with another wounded soldier.  
  
"Go with her," Hawkeye said. "Stay with her... Stay with her until..."  
  
  
  
Jo sat down next to her friend. Bonnie's breathing was shallow and ragged. It wouldn't be much longer. Jo wasn't even aware she was crying until she unconsciously wiped a teardrop from her nose. When she looked up, Father Mulcahy was standing on the other side of the bed.  
  
"Oh, I'm sorry. I don't want to interrupt, but..."  
  
"Of course," Jo said, moving to the end of the bed. She watched quietly as Father Mulcahy administered the last rites to her best friend.  
  
Bonnie's chest struggled to rise and fall with each breath. Then it just stopped. It was as if one moment she was there, and the next she wasn't.  
  
Jo stood there, watching as the pain eased from her friend's face. It was almost as though Bonnie were smiling.  
  
Gently a hand touched her shoulder.  
  
"She's gone, Lieutenant," the head nurse softly said.  
  
"I know," Jo answered.  
  
"We need you in the O.R.. There are some soldiers who are living who need you." 


	8. Chapter 8

The room was swimming. Jo blinked her eyes hard in order to refocus them. All around her, people drank and danced and talked. She looked in front of her at the collection of empty glasses.  
  
She had started the evening with a few of the other nurses, drinking a toast to Bonnie. Time had moved on, and so had the other nurses. Jo counted the glasses. One for the best friend she's ever had. One for the life her friend would never get to live. One for the wedding she wouldn't be invited to. One for the invitation she would never get to send. The last one, the one in Jo's hand, for the fact that it was supposed to be her, not Bonnie, dead right now.  
  
Jo thought about the letter lying, half-finished, under her bed. It was the one Father Mulcahy had asked her to write to Bonnie's parents. Blinking back a thick blanket of tears from her eyes, Jo tipped the last contents of her glass into her mouth.  
  
She stood up and swayed a bit, or else the room swayed and she stood still. All of a sudden she felt light-headed and almost giddy. Turning to leave, she found herself face-to-face with Hawkeye.  
  
"Captain!" she exclaimed.  
  
"Lieutenant," he drawled, "you are drunk."  
  
"I am?"  
  
"Yes. And I'm a doctor, I should know."  
  
Jo blinked and examined him. "Well, so are you," she accused, her words a bit slurred.  
  
"Not drunk enough. When I wake up tomorrow I'll still be here."  
  
Jo's forehead wrinkled. "Where else would you be?" she asked, confused.  
  
Hawkeye didn't answer, instead he said, "C'mon, let's get you back to your tent."  
  
She couldn't work her feet properly, but Hawkeye gently guided her through the officer's club as though he were leading her on the dance floor. She was acutely aware of his hand on her back. Jo felt as though she were floating.  
  
As they approached the middle of the compound, Jo stopped. She felt suddenly reckless. Hawkeye stopped alongside her.  
  
"You coming?" he asked.  
  
Jo didn't answer, but looked into his eyes. His hand was still on her back. Jo leaned into the warmth of Hawkeye's body. Jo put her own hand on Hawkeye's chest. Standing on tiptoe, Jo could feel Hawkeye lean down. His lips brushed hers, and Jo's heart began to race. Jo didn't want the kiss to end, but finally she pulled back to catch her breath. She swayed a bit, but Hawkeye's hand steadied her.  
  
"Is there somewhere we can go?" she breathed.  
  
They fell into the darkened supply tent, arms tangled in each other and their clothing.  
  
"Why, Lieutenant, I had no idea..."  
  
Jo didn't reply. Instead she arched her neck so that Hawkeye would continue kissing it.  
  
"After our last conversation, I didn't think..." Hawkeye mumbled.  
  
"What?" Jo asked. Hawkeye had untucked her shirt and she could feel his hands making their way up her stomach. Her muscles tightened, almost instinctively.  
  
"Well," he said into her skin between kisses, "I didn't expect to find myself in here with you."  
  
Jo stopped. "Why? Because I'm a prude? Because I was foolish enough to believe I should wait for marriage when I'm lucky to see tomorrow?"  
  
Jo kissed Hawkeye again, but he put his hands on her shoulders and gently pushed her away.  
  
"What?" said Jo angrily. "I thought this was what you wanted."  
  
"I'll probably regret this in the morning, but I have the feeling you would regret it more if anything happened here tonight." Jo sat down on a spare mattress with a thud. "I may be drunk, but I think I can see what's going on." Hawkeye sat down next to Jo. "This is because of your friend, isn't it? The nurse who was killed?"  
  
"What the point in saving myself for something that may never happen? For waiting for something when tomorrow isn't even for sure?"  
  
"You've got values, ideals. I admire that, maybe I even envy it."  
  
"Hawkeye?" slurred Jo.  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"I really don't feel so well."  
  
Hawkeye helped Jo out of the tent. She leaned over the nearest bush. Her stomach heaved, and her eyes watered. When she had finished, Hawkeye helped her to her feet.  
  
"You okay?" he asked.  
  
"I would be if the world would stop spinning."  
  
"You can't go back to your tent like this," Hawkeye told her.  
  
"I can't go back to my tent like this," Jo agreed. Her stomach lurched and she bent over the bush again. "Oh," she moaned.  
  
"C'mon," Hawkeye said, helping her up again.  
  
They made their way back inside the supply tent. Hawkeye helped Jo down to the spare mattress and handed her a bedpan. Jo curled up on the mattress.  
  
Throughout the night, Jo drifted in and out of consciousness. When she awoke, it was usually to find herself leaning over the bedpan. Several times she discovered Hawkeye was holding her hair out of her face as she emptied her stomach's contents.  
  
Even when it had been hours and Jo thought that she had nothing left in her stomach, she continued to heave over the bedpan. Half awake, Jo began to cry softly.  
  
"It'll be okay," Hawkeye told her. "Try to get some sleep."  
  
"It's my fault, though," Jo mumbled.  
  
"What's your fault?" Hawkeye asked her.  
  
"It's my fault Bonnie died. I was supposed to go, not her." She began to sob. Her whole body shook and her breath came in hiccups. She turned her face into the mattress and wept.  
  
In the morning, Jo woke up to voices outside the supply tent door. The room stank from the bedpan sitting on the floor next to her. Her stomach flopped as she breathed in through her nose. Jo moaned. She couldn't decide whether her head or her stomach felt worse. Looking around, she realized where she was, but couldn't remember getting there. Memories from the night before were hazy and pieced together. Her head pounded as she frantically struggled to remember anything of the night before. Her clothes were dishevelled. She wished that she could remember whether or not she had come here alone. Her breathing quickened as she realized what it might mean if she had come here with someone. Jo's stomach tightened and she began to shake as she thought of her parents' disappointment and shame. There was no way to undo this. Jo wished she could leave her body.  
  
What if, she thought, what if? Her chest was tight, making it difficult for her to breath. Her muscles had tightened, but she didn't seem to have the power to relax them. A wave of nausea washed over her, but Jo couldn't tell if it was from the hangover or from her nerves. Her mind was racing, which only seemed to make her more keenly aware of the dull ache behind her eyes, radiating through her head.  
  
The pain in her head seemed to amplify her every sense. People were moving around outside and there was a conversation taking place just outside the supply tent. The voices on the other side of the canvas echoed inside her head.  
  
"Hawk, you look terrible."  
  
"If you think I look bad, wait until you see Jo."  
  
"You were here all night?" If Jo closed her eyes and focused on the voices, she could filter through the barrage of other noises and begin to sort out the voices owners.  
  
"It's not what you think." It was Hawkeye's voice. "She, uh, had a bit too much to drink at the officer's club last night and..."  
  
"So far this isn't too far from what I was thinking." Jo could almost hear B.J. smiling underneath his moustache.  
  
"It's not what you think," Hawkeye said again. "Nothing happened. I mean, she wanted...but I..." Jo blushed, filling in the blanks Hawkeye had left. It was Jo who had made the advances, and he had turned her down. Her body began to relax a little. Nothing had happened. But his comment had sparked a vague memory of Hawkeye helping her as she leaned over a bush. Jo was mortified. "She's been sick all night. Would you help me get her back to her tent?" 


	9. Chapter 9

Dear Victoria,  
  
There is so much here that has changed since I last wrote you. I know that I already wrote you that my friend Bonnie died, but I didn't tell you the whole story.  
  
We were overwhelmed with wounded. I must have worked all night and well into the day, or maybe all day and well into the night. It seems so strange to me that I can't remember when I returned to my tent. I thought that the details were etched into my memory, but now that I am writing them down, I realize that they aren't.  
  
I started falling asleep on my feet in surgery. I always thought that was a funny expression. Who could fall asleep on their feet? The doctors and head nurse sent me off to get some sleep, but it was hard because our camp was being shelled. Every time I would drift into sleep another shell would go off and I would wake up.  
  
I was lying in my cot, with the covers pulled up over my head. Do you remember when Mother taught us the Lord's Prayer? She had us kneel beside our beds and fold our hands together. She would say a line and we would repeat it. Every night she would come to our room and pray with us. She only stopped when I moved into my own room. I kept praying every night, even when she didn't come to check on me. I stopped when I came to this place though. It didn't make sense to pray to a god who could let this happen. I am not sure which is better; that there is no God, or that God would let this happen.  
  
I prayed that night, though, lying under my thin blankets, trembling. I said the Lord's Prayer just like I did as a child. I felt like a little girl with monsters under her bed. As long as I stayed very, very still, nothing could hurt me.  
  
So when Radar came to tell me that they needed me, I stayed still and hoped that he might just go away. Instead Bonnie volunteered to go. She never made it to post op. A shell went off on her way there and she was wounded. She was taken to the operating room, but there was nothing we could do. She was too badly hurt, and there were others who could be saved.  
  
******************************************************************  
  
"You're not going to start ignoring me again, are you?" Hawkeye asked, as he came up behind Jo.  
  
Jo quickened her pace, but Hawkeye matched it. She stopped in her tracks and he nearly walked right into her. "I don't suppose I have a choice," she said. "I don't have a bodyguard anymore, remember?" Jo smiled a sad smile and tilted her head to one side. Hawkeye didn't reply. She must have caught him off guard; it was rare for the doctor to be at a loss for words.  
  
"Look," he said finally, "about the other night..."  
  
"Oh, God, Hawkeye..."  
  
"I just wanted to make sure you knew that nothing happened."  
  
"Hawkeye, I would rather just forget the whole thing ever happened."  
  
"I thought you had." Jo's face burned red with embarrassment. "Okay, okay," Hawkeye said, seeing her reaction. "Consider it forgotten."  
  
******************************************************************  
  
It's strange Victoria, I spent so much time with Bonnie that I never took the time to get to know anyone else here. Now I am left living in a tent with strangers. They are all very nice, mind you, and they've been really terrific to me, but it's not the same.  
  
I spend all of my time working and trying to sleep. I only get about half an hour in before I wake up sweaty and shivering. What if? I keep asking myself. What if I had not been so afraid? What if I had gone to post op when I was supposed to? I thought that I was close to Death here, because I see it every day, but this is the closest I've ever been. Death was supposed to come for me, Victoria, and instead he took my best friend. I am not quite sure how I am supposed to live with that. My mind starts running at a breakneck speed and I can't seem to get it to turn off. Sometimes I will even go see what I can do in post op, just to be doing something. The worst is when I am left alone with my thoughts.  
  
******************************************************************  
  
The compound was dark as Jo walked around, her housecoat wrapped tightly around her. Post op was virtually deserted. There hadn't been wounded in days. The first few nights the officer's club had been noisy and full with people anxious to take advantage of this opportunity and let their hair down, but now most people had returned to their regular routines, albeit at a more leisurely pace.  
  
Jo had hoped that she might enjoy the night and get some good sleep, but her body would not stop shaking. The only way to control the shaking was to keep moving.  
  
Jo found herself walking around the compound in the middle of the night, trying to exert control over her own muscles. She had been walking long enough that Klinger simply nodded her way when they passed each other rather that stopping her with his cry of "Halt, who goes there?" Her feet were beginning to shuffle along the ground. Her body was exhausted, but her mind wouldn't stop. Questions rolled around in her mind as her stomach muscles tightened and relaxed in spasms.  
  
Passing by the Swamp, she heard the laughter coming from inside. With each lap of the camp, she wished that she was inside. At least with other people she would have an excuse to ignore her own thoughts. She paused outside the door, listening to the jokes being tossed back and forth and watching the shadows through the screen walls.  
  
Suddenly every thing inside came to a stand still. The jokes stopped and the shadows stilled.  
  
"Who do you suppose it is?" Jo heard Radar hiss under his breath.  
  
"Halt, who goes there?" called Hawkeye, though he sounded startlingly like Klinger.  
  
"It's Jo, Hawkeye."  
  
"Well, don't just stand out there lurking."  
  
Jo stepped inside the tent. There was a small group sitting around a table.  
  
"I'm sorry," Jo said, "I'm interrupting."  
  
"Only a poker game," said B.J.. "Pull up a cot and join in."  
  
Jo sat on the edge of the cot, just outside of the circle. "I don't know how to play," she admitted.  
  
"Radar, move over," Hawkeye instructed, patting the empty space Radar left. "Have a seat here. You can play with me until you get the hang of it."  
  
Jo sat in the warm seat. She was still shaking a bit. She hadn't noticed the shaking while she was walking, maybe because the steady rhythm of her steps masked the unconscious shivering.  
  
"You're cold," Hawkeye remarked. "Bartender, get the lady a drink," he announced. Jo didn't argue. She wasn't cold, but perhaps the drink would help to relax her. Someone handed her a glass, and she began to drink as Hawkeye continued. "Dealer's choice. Let's start with something easy for Jo's sake. How about kings and little ones." Turning to Jo, he explained, "That means kings and your lowest card are wild."  
  
"I see," said Jo, though she didn't have the faintest idea what Hawkeye was talking about.  
  
"No you don't," Hawkeye shot back. "The first thing you need to work on is your bluffing."  
  
The game went on well into the night, and by the wee hours of the morning Jo was playing her own hand. She had won nothing, but she had also learned quickly when to fold, so she hadn't lost much more than two dollars.  
  
She emerged from the Swamp bleary eyed and fell into her own cot just before sunrise. She was just beginning to slip back into sleep when she felt a gentle nudge.  
  
"You have just enough time to grab something to eat," the voice next to her bed was saying. "You're on duty in half an hour."  
  
Jo swung her legs over so that she was sitting up on the edge of her cot. "Thanks," she muttered absentmindedly to the other nurse.  
  
After the other woman had left the tent, Jo reached under her pillow and pulled out the paper and pen she had placed there the night before. Instead of going to the mess tent, Jo finished the letter.   
  
******************************************************************  
  
I haven't told you about the other changes here. One of our surgeons has been sent home. I'm sure that I wrote you about Major Burns before. He was quite unbearable and not a terribly good surgeon. I think that some of the more experienced nurses are probably better surgeons. He was always a bit crazy, but he went off the deep end when Major Houlihan, our head nurse, was married. So he was promoted and sent stateside. That's the army for you.  
  
We have a new surgeon here now. I'm not quite sure what to make of him yet. Daddy would like him, I think, although he might call him stuffy behind his back. Major Charles Emerson Winchester the third. Even his name is stuffy. But he is a good surgeon. He is certainly the kind of man that Daddy would deem worthy of an Avery girl, but Daddy is far too absorbed with how things appear. I have learned here that not everything is as it seems, and the way things appear is not the most important thing.  
  
Please give my love to the family. Thank Carol Ann and Edward for the picture. I have it next to my bed and I look at it every night before I go to sleep. Eddie is beautiful. Please tell him about his aunt in Korea. I hate knowing that I will be a stranger to him when I return home. Take care of yourself Victoria. 


	10. Chapter 10

"You bumbling incompetent!" the Major snapped at her.  
  
Jo cringed inwardly. The lights flickered and momentarily they were in the dark again. She knew that everyone had been on edge since the blackout was ordered. It had been days and it seemed that the longer they waited, the more antsy people got about the potential attack.  
  
"I'm sorry Doctor," Jo stuttered. "It's just that..."  
  
"I don't want excuses, I want my clamp!"  
  
"Yes Doctor," Jo replied softy, handing him the clamp.  
  
"Charles, take it easy," BJ called from across the operating room.  
  
"Why don't you lay off?" Hawkeye chimed in.  
  
"None of us likes working under these conditions," Potter added, and as if on cue the lights flickered and the room went dark again.  
  
"Nurse, I'll take over here," the head nurse said from beside her and Jo was startled. She must have moved next to Jo during the momentary darkness, but Jo hadn't noticed.  
  
"I could use some help over here," BJ called to Jo as the lights flicked back on.  
  
Colonel Potter stopped her, "Wait, go out to pre-op and see how many boys we have left to work on."  
  
"Colonel, I was just there. These are the last of our patients," Major Houlihan answered.  
  
"Lieutenant, I'd like to speak with you," the head nurse said to Jo as she was getting ready to walk over to post op in the dusk for her shift.  
  
"Yes Major," Jo replied.  
  
"I'd like to know what happened in there." The Major motioned towards the O.R..  
  
"I was reaching for the clamp when the lights went out," Jo explained. "I couldn't find it in the dark."  
  
"A good nurse knows where everything on her instrument tray is."  
  
"Yes, Major. It won't happen again," Jo muttered.  
  
"Good. See that it doesn't. Now head over to post op, your shift starts any minute."  
  
The shift started like most others. Jo made her way around the post op ward, checking on each of the patients' vital signs and bandages. The ward was full and several other nurses were working. Two of the doctors were also making rounds.  
  
Pausing for a moment, Jo watched Hawkeye as he joked with a patient as he carefully checked over a patient. Across the room, BJ was quietly talking with Major Houlihan beside the bed of a patient. There was buzz of activity and conversation.  
  
Suddenly there was a loud explosion near the tent. For a moment Jo heard nothing except the ringing in her ears. Everything and everyone around her seemed to be reacting soundlessly. Jo stood in shock for a moment until the sound returned to the chaos around her. She threw herself to the ground next to a patient's bed.  
  
The soldier in the bed next to her was crying. She could hear his whimpering begin to get louder, and covered her ears. The lights flickered momentarily and with the next blast, went out completely.  
  
In the dark, Jo could feel her panic beginning to rise. The darkness was closing in on her and she was finding it hard to breathe. She felt a hand grab her shoulder.  
  
"Let go!" she shouted and wriggled free, jumping to her feet.  
  
In the darkness Jo stumbled from the tent, leaving those inside calling after her.  
  
There were explosions from all around. Jo was standing very still in the middle of the compound when Hawkeye found her. Her eyes were wide.  
  
"It's not safe out here," he explained loudly, over the background staccato of weapons fire. "We need to take cover."  
  
Jo didn't move. In fact, she didn't even blink. She gave no indication that she had heard Hawkeye.  
  
"We need to go, now!" he shouted. When she didn't move, he picked her up and flung her over his shoulder, pulling her into the nearest tent.  
  
It was dark inside. All the screens had been covered with heavy canvas the day the blackout was ordered. Hawkeye set Jo down on her feet, but her legs did not support her.  
  
"Oops," he said softly, catching her before she hit the ground. She was shaking like a leaf in a violent windstorm.  
  
"Are you okay?" Hawkeye asked.  
  
"Fine," she replied, through clenched teeth, willing her muscles to stop twitching. Her voice was hoarse.  
  
"Why the hell did you run out of there?" he demanded. "You could have been killed!"  
  
"I - I had to get out of there."  
  
"You could have been killed," he repeated, softer this time.  
  
"What would it have mattered? Everything here is dead or dying!" Jo snapped back.  
  
"Don't say that. It would have mattered. A lot of people here rely on you. I see how much you care about your patients. You reassure them, you hold their hands when they're scared. You are a damn fine nurse."  
  
"I didn't in there. When it really counts, I can't comfort them. I can't protect them. When fire is coming down all around us I'm just as scared as they are."  
  
"We all are," Hawkeye told her. "We are still human, after all."  
  
Jo began to weep. Her shoulders shook, but not in fear. The sobs seemed to come from the furthest, deepest part of her where she had been pushing them down. Hawkeye wrapped an arm around her. She stiffened a little, but didn't pull away.  
  
"You have friends here, you know," he muttered into her hair. "We're here for you. I'm here for you, if you'll let me be."  
  
His voice was softer than usual. Jo recognized it as the voice he used when he was comforting a patient. She turned her body and allowed him to wrap both arms around her.  
  
The shelling had stopped about an hour before dawn, though there was no way of telling when it was dawn from inside the tents. Hawkeye hadn't moved for nearly as long. A head rested peacefully in his lap.  
  
The door to the supply tent swung open loudly, spilling light into the once pitch black room.  
  
"Shush!" Hawkeye warned, to no avail, but the body resting next to him didn't stir. He blinked his eyes in the sudden light as a human-shaped shadow moved into the doorway.  
  
"Pierce?" a voice hissed. "Is that you?"  
  
"Shh," he repeated. And in a whisper, "We're in here."  
  
The man in the doorway moved into the room. "So this is where you've been. Really Pierce, I hardly think this is the appropriate time for a romantic, how shall I put it, liaison. Do you know Colonel Potter has the entire camp out looking for you?"  
  
"Charles." Hawkeye's voice took on a warning tone. "Nothing happened."  
  
But Charles continued. "If I hadn't found you, we were going to report you kidnapped! But here you are. In the supply tent with a nurse."  
  
"Charles, look at her."  
  
The Major bent down to inspect Jo's face. It was relaxed, because she was sleeping, but her cheeks were still blotchy and her eyes puffy and red.  
  
"Pierce, what did you do?"  
  
Hawkeye rolled his eyes. "Do you think you can help me get her up? She's been sleeping there for a couple of hours and I think that my legs joined her after the first half an hour."  
  
The Major lifted her off of Hawkeye, and Hawkeye stretched his legs. Jo sighed, and began to open her eyes.  
  
"Jo? Jo? The shelling has stopped," Hawkeye told the groggy nurse.  
  
"The blackout has been lifted," the Major added. "A patrol caught the enemy soldiers this morning."  
  
"They even sent a search party out to look for us."  
  
"The search party!" the Major exclaimed. "I must tell them that I've found you, before they have you declared missing in action." He stood up quickly and left the tent, the door banging shut behind him.  
  
Jo rubbed her eyes. "How long was I asleep?"  
  
"A couple of hours," Hawkeye told her.  
  
"That's the longest I've slept in weeks. Why do I feel so tired?"  
  
"If that's the longest you've slept in weeks it's no wonder you feel so tired. Come on, let's get you to bed." Hawkeye said, trying to help Jo up. His legs buckled underneath him, and he sat down again. "They're just asleep," he said in reply to her concerned look.  
  
"My fault, I suppose," Jo said, offering him her arm. She could see him hesitate before he took it. "Don't worry," she said with assurance, "I'm tougher than I look."  
  
They stepped out into the bright morning light. Hawkeye squinted, and Jo blinked her eyes furiously, trying to adjust to the dramatic change in lighting. Hawkeye leaned on her shoulder and stretched his legs gingerly.  
  
The camp was beginning to move in its usual fashion. The search had been called off, and everyone in camp was getting back to their assigned duties. There were a few glances as Hawkeye and Jo made their way from the tent.  
  
"You know," Hawkeye told her, "people are going to talk."  
  
"I know," Jo replied. 


	11. Chapter 11

Major Houlihan sat down next to Jo. "I know that it's been rough here for you since Lieutenant MacNeil died. Some of the nurses and doctors have expressed concern that you're spending too much time working. I admired your dedication, Lieutenant, but it's important for you to get some rest. I've arranged for three days of R&R for you."  
  
"I don't understand," Jo said, confused. "Is there something wrong with my work?"  
  
"No, Lieutenant. You're doing excellent work, especially considering your limited rest."  
  
"Then why are you sending me away?"  
  
"R&R is a privilege, not a punishment, Lieutenant."  
  
"How is it a privilege to be all alone in a city I don't know?" Jo cried.  
  
"Lieutenant!" shouted the exasperated Major. "If you don't see it as a privilege, then don't go!" She threw her hands in the air and walked out of the tent.  
  
Jo groaned inwardly as she walked into Colonel Potter's office. On one side of the desk sat the Colonel, and on the other, Major Houlihan.  
  
Stiffly, Jo saluted her superiors until her commanding officer spoke those two magical words: "At ease."  
  
"Have a seat, Lieutenant," he told her and at his encouragement, Jo eased herself into a chair.  
  
"Lieutenant," Major Houlihan jumped in, "I'm sure you know why you're here..."  
  
"Major," Colonel Potter interjected, "if you don't mind, I'd like to start this meeting."  
  
"Oh, yes. Of course, sir," she said and paused. "It's just that I don't think that Lieutenant Avery understands that it is a privilege to..." She trailed off as the Colonel cleared his throat.  
  
"Lieutenant," he began, "is it true that you turned down three days R&R?"  
  
Jo blushed. "With all due respect, sir, I'd rather stay here, where I can be useful."  
  
"I don't want to overlook the work you do here. You are a fine nurse, Lieutenant. But, you're no good to anyone if you aren't getting enough rest. Even the best professionals need to sleep some of the time. From what I've been told that the last thing you do around here."  
  
"Colonel, as I've already reported to you, Lieutenant Avery is often helping out in post op in the middle of the night. The other nurses who..."  
  
The Colonel cleared his throat again. "Major," he warned.  
  
"Please sir," Jo pleaded. She was beginning to feel panicked. "I promise to get more rest."  
  
The minute the words left her mouth Jo didn't believe them, and she could tell Colonel Potter didn't either. Even if she fully intended to rest, it was not a promise she could make. In Tokyo, and even in Seoul, she would not be obligated to work long shifts. Here, however, so close to the front, anything could happen and anything often meant long surgical shifts for all the staff.  
  
"Lieutenant," the Colonel replied slowly and carefully, "I'll let you stay, provided that you get adequate rest. If I don't think you're taking care of yourself, I'll order you to take this R&R."  
  
"But Colonel!" Major Houlihan cried out.  
  
"Thank you, sir," Jo exclaimed, before either the Major or the Colonel could say anything else.  
  
"Colonel," the Major protested again.  
  
"That will be all Major, thank you," he said and Major Houlihan stood and left the office.  
  
Jo could feel the blood returning to her limbs and realized for the first time how cold she had been feeling. She stood up and turned to leave the room.  
  
"Ah, Lieutenant," Colonel Potter called her back. "I don't usually put much stock in rumours or idle gossip, but I think you should know that you are the object of a lot of speculation. Many people are saying that you..."  
  
"Yes, sir, I've heard those rumours too," Jo interrupted. "I assure you that they are just rumours."  
  
"Thank you Lieutenant. I know it's none of my business, but just a friendly word of advice, these sorts of rumours aren't the sorts of things that a nice girl like you should get mixed up in."  
  
************************************************************************  
  
Dear Victoria,  
  
They must think I am crazy here, passing up the opportunity to see Tokyo and take three days R&R. Sometimes I wonder if I really am. Not so long ago I would have given anything to get out of this place. Now I'm afraid to leave. When I first got here, I thought I would never get used to being here, but now there is something strangely comforting and familiar about this place. I am terrified of leave this place and these people. I have enough trouble trying to catch a few hours sleep here, where I know my bed (and all its lumps) and my tent mates. What if something happened to the people here and I was gone? I don't know if I could live with that.  
  
************************************************************************  
  
Hawkeye sat down next to her at the mess tent table, his tray clattering down in front of him.  
  
"So, what's your favourite story?"  
  
Jo looked up, startled and confused by his question. "Are you sure we should be sitting together?" she asked.  
  
"If we start avoiding each other, people really will think there is truth to the rumours."  
  
Jo didn't respond. Instead she forced down an unidentifiable mouthful of grey.  
  
"I think my favourite story," Hawkeye continued happily as though Jo weren't trying to ignore him, "is that you were kidnapped by the enemy and I disobeyed orders, went AWOL and rescued you." Jo continued to look out the screen as she shovelled another spoonful into her mouth, swallowing quickly so she wouldn't have to taste it. "On the other hand, there's a certain charm about the story..." Hawkeye trailed off when Jo put her cutlery on her tray and stood up. "Leaving so soon?"  
  
Jo began to walk away, but turned back. "I like the one about me having to save you from the Chinese."  
  
************************************************************************  
  
I'm afraid to stay too, Victoria. I am changing here. Every day here is another day filled with dying and sadness. I am afraid that I am losing who I am, or maybe it is just who I was. I was foolish to think that I could come here and leave unchanged by the experience. I read your letters and I am reminded of the girl that I once was and the woman I was expected to be. I am not that person anymore, Victoria. For better or for worse, I am different.  
  
************************************************************************  
  
Jo tossed and turned in her bed until an irate "Shh!" made its way to her from across the room. It had been a long day running from one patient to the next, trying to avert disasters. Behind their lids, her eyes ached with tiredness. But sleep still only came in short bouts filled with horrific images. Often at night, Jo would keep her eyes open, staring into the dark because nothingness was more desirable than her nightmares. Every night though, sleep seemed to find a way to take over, even if only for a little while, and Jo found herself waking in a sweat.  
  
As quietly as she could, Jo rolled onto her side and tried to get some sleep. All eyes had been on her during her shift and it seemed as though news of her turning down three days R&R had overtaken the rumours about her and Hawkeye. The whole camp was watching her, or so it seemed, making sure she was eating enough, resting enough... Jo felt like a child with dozens of watchful parents. She knew that they meant well, but it was hard enough to sleep without anyone keeping track of how many hours she spent dreaming.  
  
"Hawkeye!" Jo hissed as loudly as she dared, crouching down outside the Swamp. She had waited for the roommates' breathing to fall into the familiar pattern of sleep before she had snuck out of the tent and over to the Swamp.  
  
"Wha?" Hawkeye mumbled loudly.  
  
Jo flinched, hoping no one had heard. "Shh," she warned. "Hawkeye, it's Jo."  
  
Hawkeye muttered something about sleep and then asked, "Who?"  
  
"Jo," she repeated. "I'm sorry to wake you. It's just that it's important. I don't know who I can ask."  
  
"What is it?" Hawkeye asked and Jo knew he was fully awake.  
  
"Hawkeye, I need a favour." 


	12. Chapter 12

"Would you quit moving?" he said, tugging on the thin blanket draped over them.  
  
Jo frowned. "I'm sorry, it's just hard to get comfortable."  
  
"Well, it's a whole lot harder with you hogging the blanket," Hawkeye grumbled. "You know," he added, "this isn't going to help those rumours about us."  
  
"Maybe it will end the rumours about Crazy Jo turning down R&R."  
  
"Why did you turn it down? Most of us would give anything for some time away from this hellhole."  
  
Jo sat up suddenly and thrust the blanket at Hawkeye. "Take it."  
  
Hawkeye sat up too. "What's wrong?" he asked.  
  
"Forget it. This was a stupid idea. I should have known it wouldn't work. Now they're going to send me away!"  
  
"Who is going to send you away?"  
  
"Colonel Potter and Major Houlihan," Jo sobbed.  
  
"Jo," Hawkeye said gently, "they're worried about you. We all are. You took Bonnie's death really hard. R&R isn't being sent away. Think of it like a vacation."  
  
"I can't," Jo choked out. "Hawkeye, I don't know what to do. I feel like I am stuck. I'm afraid to stay, but I'm even more afraid to leave. I hate every waking moment here, but the thought of sleep fills me with dread."  
  
"You don't have to worry," Hawkeye said lightly. "I already promised to keep my hands to myself."  
  
Jo smiled a little. "That's not what scares me," she said. Then she became serious. "Hawkeye," Jo said, turning to him, her eyes filled with sadness. "I'm not afraid of the war when I'm asleep, I'm not even afraid of dying. I'm afraid to go to sleep because of what I might dream."  
  
"I have nightmares," Hawkeye said softly, "we all do. If we saw what we do here and didn't we wouldn't be human."  
  
"I've had nightmares since I got here," Jo admitted. "Dreams of boys with their arms missing or a hole where their stomachs should be. Even dreams of faceless hoards of children begging me for help I just can't give. At first I thought that nothing could top that - going from a waking nightmare to a sleeping one every day. But this is different."  
  
"Do you want to tell me about it?" Hawkeye asked.  
  
"I don't know if I can... Before my dreams were about patients. Boys we'd treated, but essentially strangers. But this - this... I wake up in my tent. It's dark, but I know that I am all alone. We're being shelled and the ground is shaking. That's what wakes me up, but then I hear screaming. When I get to the middle of the compound, everyone is lying there, bleeding. They're all calling to me to help them." Jo paused, swallowing hard. She had never described her dream before and with each word, images flashed through her mind. She fought wildly to control her terror. "They - they're not just strangers. It's everyone from the unit. I keep running, from person to person, friend to friend, but I always get there too late. And every time I turn around there is someone else calling my name. Then I see her. Bonnie is there and I try to make my way to her, but by the time I get there it's too late; there is nothing I can do. And then it goes quiet. No one is calling for me anymore and I turn around to see what's happened, but they're all gone and when I turn back Bonnie is too. I'm all alone."  
  
Jo shuddered involuntarily. Hawkeye picked up the blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders. "You're not alone," he murmured. "I'm right here. Try to get some rest."  
  
Each night that week Jo waited for the telltale signs of sleep from her tent-mates; the slow, regular breathing, the gentle snoring and soft sighs. These were her cue to sneak quietly from her bed to the darkened supply tent.  
  
************************************************************************  
  
Dear Victoria,  
  
I feel like someone out of a spy novel and I must admit, I almost enjoy the excitement, or at least I would if my actions weren't completely necessary. I still feel as though everyone here is treating me as though I've been marked "fragile, handle with care." I suppose I have been, at least by my superiors, and if anyone were to listen to camp gossip (which we all do) they would be wary of me. "Crazy Jo," they call me, and I'm wondering if they're right. When I first got here, I would have done almost anything to get out of this place, but now I am afraid to leave. I even turned down three days in Tokyo because I'm too scared to leave the unit.  
  
************************************************************************  
  
His breathing softened and became more regular as he drifted from consciousness to sleep, and Jo felt herself relax back into the mattress. It was safe here, lying next to Hawkeye, huddled under the threadbare regulation army blanket they shared. Jo had to admit that even just feeling the warmth of another human being close by was reassuring. For the first time since her friend died, Jo knew she was not alone.  
  
"Lieutenant, I'm afraid that you're not getting the rest you need. I thought we had an agreement."  
  
"But sir!" Jo exclaimed, interrupting.  
  
"Lieutenant, you haven't been showing up in post-op at all hours, but the other nurses say that you sneak out in the middle of the night, and that you sneak back into your bed in the morning."  
  
"But sir," she exclaimed again, sputtering this time.  
  
"Would you care to explain where you are at night?"  
  
Jo's face turned red, which embarrassed her and only served to make it redder. Before she could stammer out her response, the Colonel stepped in.  
  
"Lieutenant, those rumours we talked about the other day have only grown. Now I've been around a while and I'd like to think I know what's what and what's mule muffins, if you pardon my French. I believe in a person's right to keep her private life private, but you need a good night's sleep and not this... this..." he let his sentence trail off, a slight blush creeping up his own cheeks.  
  
Jo hadn't thought she could get any redder, but from the way her face burned, she imagined she was showing up on every piece of military equipment this side of the 38th parallel.  
  
Before she could gather herself to say anything, the Colonel spoke again. "Lieutenant, you are a good officer and a damn fine nurse. You take good care of the patients, and you've never disobeyed an order, but you need to take better care of yourself. I've never had to make this an order before, but I'm afraid I am going to have to now. Lieutenant, I'm sending you to Tokyo on three days R&R."  
  
"But Colonel," she protested.  
  
"No buts," he retorted. "I can't order you to enjoy it, but I can order you to take it." 


	13. Chapter 13

Dear Victoria,  
  
I am back now, and I have three days worth of letters from you to catch up on. I have been in Tokyo on three days R & R. It wasn't as horrible as I thought it would be. You must be wondering why I thought a vacation from this war would be horrible. The truth is, I have been wondering myself. Most everyone here would give anything for a break from the war, from the fighting, the death - even from each other. It is a small place, and everyone here seems to know each other's most intimate secrets. Sometimes it can be enough to drive you crazy. And I think some of them think that's what has happened to me.  
  
They arranged a visit with Doctor Freedman for me while I was in Tokyo. Dr. Freedman is an army psychiatrist. He says that I am not crazy. According to Dr. Freedman, we all find ways to deal with the stress of being so close to the front.  
  
Please don't tell anyone that I saw a psychiatrist. Mother would worry, Daddy would be embarrassed, and Carol Ann would probably think I was being dramatic or something.  
  
************************************************************************  
  
Jo paused in her writing, realizing she hadn't touched the food on the tray in front of her. She closed her book and set it down on the table. Giving her spoonful a careful sniff, Jo cautiously put it in her mouth. Her taste buds could still remember the real food of Tokyo and were sorely disappointed by the surplus army rations. She grimaced and swallowed the grey mass that was supposed to be some sort of stew.  
  
Before she knew what was happening, she was sandwiched between two bodies.  
  
"These seats taken?" a familiar voice asked.  
  
"Hawkeye!" Jo said, smiling. "It's good to see you again. Both of you," she added quickly, looking over at BJ on her other side and blushing.  
  
"So, how was it?" Hawkeye asked eagerly.  
  
"It was alright," replied Jo.  
  
"Just alright?" Hawkeye asked.  
  
Jo shrugged and nodded.  
  
"Come on," he urged.  
  
"We're your friends," BJ added.  
  
"And as such, we have the right to live vicariously through you." Hawkeye declared.  
  
Stuck between them, Jo felt a bit like a spectator at a tennis match, as the two surgeons batted jokes back and forth.  
  
"Right," agreed BJ, "we've been stuck here while you've been travelling the world. At least tell us a story or two."  
  
"Really, it was alright," Jo snapped, irritated. "There isn't much else to tell." If the entire company really did think she had gone crazy, it would only fuel rumours for her to be openly talking about how she spent her entire R & R, save for a few precious hours, locked in her hotel room. Her answer seemed satisfactory, or at least cross enough that the two men knew not to ask further.  
  
"So, what did you bring me?" BJ asked, grinning.  
  
Jo felt embarrassed, she hadn't even thought of bringing back gifts for any of her friends here. "I - I didn't really leave the room," she said sheepishly.  
  
"Oh, so it was that kind of rest and relaxation."  
  
The comment hung in the air a moment before Jo realized what she had said and how it must have sounded. Jo burned with humiliation.  
  
"Aren't you going to ask how things were here?" BJ asked, shifting the subject.  
  
"I - I'm sorry." Jo said, swallowing hard and fighting tears of embarrassment. With a forced smile, she asked, "How were things here?"  
  
"Same as always. You did miss a great show..." BJ was cut short by the crackling PA system.  
  
There were a few short raps on the PA microphone before the voice came booming over the compound.  
  
"Sorry to interrupt dinner folks, but we've got incoming wounded."  
  
One by one the tables in the mess tent were emptied of people. Trays left, half-finished, on the tables, as if their owners expected to be able to return to finish them. Of course, no one really believed they would have the opportunity to come back to their dinner, and most were grateful for the fact.  
  
"You ready for this?" Hawkeye asked Jo as she helped him with his gown and gloves. His eyes, the only part of his face visible between the surgical mask and hat, were filled with concern.  
  
"Do I really have a choice?" Jo asked in response. Then looking carefully at Hawkeye, she added, "Don't worry. I'm the one who didn't want to leave in the first place."  
  
"Table ready over here," Hawkeye called. "Is there a party of one waiting to be served?"  
  
Hawkeye stared down at the patient lying on the table for a long moment.  
  
"My God," he whispered as he finally let out his breath.  
  
The child lying on the table squirmed and whimpered as the anaesthetist held the mask over his face. The little boy relaxed as he drifted into unconsciousness, and the whimpers stopped.  
  
"He's under Doctor," Jo said, preparing to pass along surgical instruments quickly so as not to waste valuable time. When there was no response, she looked up. Hawkeye seemed frozen, still staring at the child. "Hawkeye!" Jo called, snapping him out of his trance.  
  
"Scalpel," he requested, as though nothing had happened. Jo handed it to him without missing a beat. "Does anyone know what the hell happened out there?"  
  
Jo quietly made the rounds in post op. It had been a relatively short session in the OR, but the whole camp seemed subdued by what they had just seen.  
  
A raggedy group of children had been brought in in various states of injury. They had been travelling together, walking further south to escape the worst of the fighting. As far as anyone could tell, they were orphans, and everyone assumed that they had created their own makeshift family. Unfortunately this family of children had wandered straight into a minefield.  
  
"Hawkeye," a nurse called across the room. "His temperature has gone up again."  
  
Hawkeye checked the thermometer. Jo could see him leaning over the little boy. She could recognize the child form the OR, although by now his face had been cleaned of all the dirt and soot that had been covering it.  
  
"It's been going up ever since he got into post-op," the nurse continued to explain.  
  
"Damn it," Hawkeye cursed quietly. "He must have an infection."  
  
"Could you have missed something in the OR?" the nurse asked gently.  
  
Hawkeye was quiet for a moment and Jo couldn't tell if he was upset at the suggestion, or just thinking. "It's possible," he finally said. "He was in pretty bad shape."  
  
"We've got to get his temperature down."  
  
"He's not stable enough for another round of surgery," Hawkeye decided, examining the boy closer. "Give him some penicillin to fight the infection, and we'll see if we can open him up again in the morning."  
  
Hawkeye straightened up. "I'm supposed to be off," he stated, looking at the clock. His eyes had dark circles underneath and Jo could tell he was exhausted.  
  
"Captain Hunnicut should be here any minute," the other nurse said. "Things are quiet enough. Why don't you go get some rest? We can hold down the fort," she added, glancing over at Jo, who nodded in agreement.  
  
"Thanks," Hawkeye mumbled, and left the room.  
  
Jo sat down next to a young girl whose arm was in a cast. Her eyes flicked back and forth, taking everything in.  
  
"Hey," Jo murmured. "It's okay, you're going to be just fine."  
  
Gently she brushed the girl's hair out of her face. The child's eyes stopped and locked on Jo. She seemed to relax a bit. Jo patted her uninjured hand and stood up. She was about to move on to the next cot when the nurse across the room called out to her.  
  
"There's something wrong!"  
  
The young boy Hawkeye had been examining just moments before was making strange noises. His breath was coming in choppy gasps.  
  
"His blood pressure is dropping," Jo told the other nurse. "I don't think he's getting enough air."  
  
"Go," the other nurse ordered. "Get a doctor, quickly!"  
  
Jo rushed from the post-op ward. She looked frantically around the compound but there was no one in sight. She made a dash to the Swamp. "Hawkeye," she yelled, opening the door without knocking.  
  
Hawkeye was lying in his cot, his blanket half covering him, one foot, still in its boot, sticking out from underneath. He sat up.  
  
"You've got to come quickly," Jo told him. "It's the boy we treated. He can't breathe," Jo, breathless herself, gasped.  
  
Hawkeye followed her quickly back to post-op. When they got there, BJ was working on the boy.  
  
"Doctor," the nurse said. "He doesn't have a pulse."  
  
BJ stood up, head hanging. "That's it?" Hawkeye asked him. "You're just going to give up?!"  
  
"Hawk," BJ started, but didn't finish what he was going to say.  
  
Hawkeye leaned over the boy, examining the emergency tracheotomy. Frantically he began chest compressions. One of the other children, awakened by the commotion, began to scream.  
  
"Hawk, he's gone," BJ said.  
  
"No, damn it!" Hawkeye continued his frenzied attempted to revive the boy, now lying limp in the cot.  
  
"Hawkeye, it's time to stop," BJ told him, but Hawkeye didn't listen. More children began screaming, and some cowered behind their blankets.  
  
"Hawkeye!" Jo grabbed Hawkeye by the shoulders. "You're scaring them! He's gone. There isn't anything else you can do."  
  
Hawkeye shook her hands off his shoulders and Jo stumbled backwards, falling into an empty cot. Jo sat there, stunned, for a few moments, watching Hawkeye storm out of the tent.  
  
"Are you alright?" BJ asked her.  
  
"Yes," Jo said. "I'm fine. It's Hawkeye we should be worried about."  
  
"I'll go find him," BJ said.  
  
"No, you stay here. Calm down the children. I'll find Hawkeye," Jo told him.  
  
Jo found Hawkeye where she suspected he would be. Alone in the darkness of the Swamp, Hawkeye was tossing back drink after drink. She could see him through the screen sitting on his cot.  
  
She knocked quietly on the door, opening it without waiting for him to answer.  
  
"Hawkeye, it's Jo."  
  
He looked at her and blinked. "Are you alright?"  
  
"I'm fine," she said. "Are you alright?"  
  
"I - I didn't mean to push you," Hawkeye told her.  
  
"I know." Jo sat down next to Hawkeye and took the glass out of his hand, setting it down. "There was nothing you could do."  
  
"I never should have left before BJ got there."  
  
"No one could have known that would happen." Jo thought she heard Hawkeye let out a choked sob. "It's not your fault."  
  
Hawkeye began to cry in earnest. Jo's own eyes began to tear up, remembering the young boy they had worked so hard to save in the OR lying, limp and lifeless in post-op. Carefully she wrapped her arms around him. "It's not your fault," she repeated, over and over into his hair.  
  
Hawkeye lifted his head up and looked at her for a moment. Then, slowly, he moved closer and kissed her. Jo held onto him tighter.  
  
"Is this alright?" Hawkeye asked her.  
  
"Yes." 


	14. Chapter 14

Jo let the food on the tray go cold. Instead she pushed it around, making patterns and designs. For nearly a month she had hardly been able to keep anything down and the antacids she usually used to combat the food weren't helping. Jo was worried that it was something more serious, but she couldn't bring herself to say anything to one of the doctors. They'd probably overreact and treat her like an invalid when it was really just a bad case of indigestion.  
  
"Lieutenant, sir, I mean ma'am," the short young man stammered from behind his glasses.  
  
"What Radar?" demanded Jo, irritated.  
  
"Uh, I think this belongs to you." He held out a book.  
  
Jo took it from him and opened it. Dear Victoria, the top of the page read.  
  
"You've been snooping through my things!" she accused.  
  
Radar seemed flustered. "No, I just found it, honest. It just took a while to figure out who it belonged to. But then I figured, since you were the only one to go on leave around the time that letter was started, it must be yours," he finished, looking somewhat satisfied with himself.  
  
"So, you admit you were reading my private letters," Jo said, raising her voice. By now she was loud enough that most of the mess tent had turned to see what the commotion was all about, but Jo didn't care. She stood up, pushing her plate into Radar's hands. "You want to snoop through my food too?"  
  
Jo turned to leave and bumped right into Hawkeye.  
  
"Hey, take it easy," he told her, gently holding her shoulders.  
  
Jo shook herself free and glared at him before leaving the tent.  
  
As she was walking away, she heard Hawkeye call out to her. "That was a bit rough, don't you think? I mean Radar was only trying to be helpful."  
  
Jo turned, "What's it to you?"  
  
By now Hawkeye had caught up to her. "Jo," he said softly. "Things have been kind of strained between us, but..."  
  
"You think?" Jo cut him off. She didn't know when she had started to feel angry with Hawkeye. In fact, she didn't know when she had started to feel angry at all, but she wasn't finished. "You think just because of...of what happened you have some kind of responsibility for me?"  
  
"I thought...I mean... You said it was alright."  
  
"Well, I didn't mean it," Jo spat, venomous. "Now, leave me alone!"  
  
"I'm sorry," Hawkeye said softly to Jo's back as she stomped away.  
  
Jo stopped and turned to look at Hawkeye. Her anger vanished and was replaced by guilt. "No Hawkeye," she said, "I'm sorry. I don't know what's wrong with me. I'm just so tired." Hawkeye reached out to her and she allowed herself to collapse into his arms. "I just wish this damn war was over so I could be home with my family."  
  
In her tent, Jo ignored the other nurses chattering in the middle of the tent and went straight to her cot. She opened the book Radar had returned to her and opened it to the first page. She remembered starting the letter. It seemed so long ago. Nearly a month ago she had started to write her sister. Jo guiltily looked over at the stack of letters her sister had sent in that time, none of them answered.  
  
Jo looked again at the date on the letter and at her calendar, hanging beside her bed. Counting backward on her fingers, she realized it had been more than three weeks. Her eyes went wide. More than three weeks and Jo had only just now realized. Her stomach dropped and Jo grimaced, hoping she wouldn't be sick. She was oblivious to the jovial conversation going on around the stove in the tent. She didn't really want to consider the possibility, but she knew she had to.  
  
How could she not have noticed? Every month, like clockwork it came, but this month... Jo couldn't even let herself finish the thought.  
  
Jo stumbled into Major Houlihan's tent, belatedly remembering to knock.  
  
"Lieutenant," the major said irritated, "didn't anyone teach you to knock?"  
  
"I'm sorry, Major, it's just... I need your help," Jo blurted out. Standing in the middle of the tent, Jo explained the situation. "I'm late," she said, embarrassed. "My...my monthly visitor is late. I think..." she trailed off.  
  
"You'll have to go to Tokyo," the Major explained, her expression softening, "we don't have the equipment to do the test here." The Major pulled out a chair for Jo and sat down across from her on the edge of her cot. Grateful, Jo slouched into the chair. "What are you going to do?"  
  
"I don't know," Jo admitted. "I'm scared. I always wanted a baby, but this...this wasn't how I thought it would happen. I always imagined more white picket fences, and less mine fields," she said, smiling. "Maybe, after all the dying we see here, maybe a baby wouldn't be such a bad thing. As much as I'm afraid, a part of me is excited too."  
  
"Sir, could I speak with you?" Jo asked, her voice shaking.  
  
"Certainly, Lieutenant," the fatherly Colonel said. "Have a seat."  
  
Jo sank deep into the chair, wishing herself anywhere but here. "Sir, I have to go to Tokyo."  
  
"Lieutenant? Weren't you the one who just refused leave to Tokyo? If I remember correctly I had to order you to take some R&R."  
  
Jo took a deep breath, "I think I'm pregnant."  
  
"I see," the Colonel finally said, clearing his throat. "Who is the father?"  
  
"I can't say," Jo gulped, her face reddening.  
  
The Colonel examined her. "Can't?"  
  
"I don't know, sir," Jo bluffed. "It happened while I was on leave." She hoped her bluff was better than her usual performance at the weekly poker games. She was blushing, in part because of the situation and in part because of what she was suggesting. Jo could only imagine what the Colonel must be thinking of her, but she couldn't tell the truth. The truth would implicate someone else. It was more than he bargained for, Jo reasoned. She couldn't do that to him. If it was true that she was pregnant, it was something she would have to do alone. Jo straightened in her chair a bit.  
  
"We'll get you out to Tokyo as soon as possible Lieutenant," the Colonel told her, signing the piece of paper that gave her permission to leave the camp.  
  
Two days later Jo returned, heart heavy. She walked into Colonel Potter's office.  
  
"Sir?" she asked, handing him the envelope. "Can we keep the reasons for my discharge private?"  
  
Jo knocked quietly on Major Houlihan's door.  
  
"Who is it?" she asked.  
  
"Lieutenant Avery."  
  
The door opened for Jo and she walked in. "I'm leaving," she told the major. "I wanted to come and thank you in person before I left."  
  
"So, it was..."  
  
"Positive," Jo finished for her. "They're shipping me home. I leave today." The air in the room seemed to stand still and the two women stood there in awkward silence as well. "I've asked Colonel Potter to keep the real reasons for my discharge confidential. I don't want anyone to know." Especially Hawkeye, Jo thought.  
  
"You're a good nurse, Lieutenant," Major Houlihan told her. Jo thought she could see tears in the Major's eyes. "If you ever need a reference, don't hesitate to contact me."  
  
"Thank you Major. It's been an honour to serve with you." Jo saluted the Major and left the tent. Forty-eight hours later she was back on American soil. 


	15. Chapter 15

Hawkeye,  
  
How do I write you this letter? I'm still not sure I can. After all this time, how do I tell you that you're a father?  
  
I can only assume that my request to keep the real reasons for my "medical" discharge from everyone at the 4077th was honoured. Either that or you aren't interested in being a part of our lives. I could understand if that's the case. You never bargained for a kid. Even if you are just learning this for the first time, if you never want to hear from me again, I could understand that too. I am not writing because I expect anything from you. I guess after all this time, I thought you deserved to know.  
  
My parents were upset when I told the why I had been discharged. My father insisted I go somewhere else until the baby was born. He told me if I didn't give my baby up for adoption I would no longer be a part of our family. It was Edward, my brother-in-law, who stood up for me. I never really liked him much before. I thought he was boring and plain. I never imagined he would save me and I certainly never imagined I would wind up living with him and Carol Ann, but I did. Or rather, we did. You have a daughter, Hawkeye. Her name is Mary Elizabeth. She is so beautiful and smart.  
  
I told my parents that her father is a GI I was engaged to marry who was declared MIA. They believe it because they have to, because to believe anything else would be too hard. They tell everyone we were married just before he went off on a dangerous mission and disappeared. They even went so far as to make up a last name for me. I'm known as Josephine Thompson now.  
  
It was hard for me to come back. As much as I wanted to be with my family and friends, I wasn't the same person they used to know. Seeing what we did over there, living the way we did...it changes a person. No one here seemed to understand that. I once told my sister in a way we were all missing in action. My family has lost the Jo I was; I have lost the Jo I was. I'm not the person I was in Korea either. Sometimes it still feels like I am stuck in between two people I once was. I think there will always be a piece of us that remains there, trapped in a memory of who we were.  
  
For a while I couldn't fathom why any of this happened to me. Korea, a baby... Before I went to Korea my life seemed so simple, so clear-cut. I would get married, live in a little house with a white picket fence and raise a family. It seemed so easy. But then I went away and things changed, I changed, and nothing seemed easy anymore. And then they put this little baby in my arms and told me I was a mommy. I don't know if you believe in fate, Hawkeye, but I do now. I stopped wondering why when I looked down at my daughter's face. She is perfect, Hawkeye. She doesn't know what war looks like, and I hope that she never has to.  
  
She saved me. Just like you saved me. Just like I saved you... In those desperate moments we were what each other had to hold on to. She is why it all happened, because if I hadn't gone to Korea, if I hadn't met you, she would not exist and now I can't imagine my life without her.  
  
For the first few years we lived with my sister, Carol Ann and her husband and children. I worked part-time at the hospital and Carol Ann watched Mary Elizabeth for me. Mary Elizabeth still goes there if I have to work late. Our life is good. I have steady work at the hospital and Mary Elizabeth started school this year. We have our own place. The apartment is small, but it is close to the hospital where I work and Mary Elizabeth's school.  
  
What can I tell you about your daughter? She will be six this year. She is beautiful, Hawk. She has your eyes, and the most beautiful smile in the world. She has your sense of humour too. She is always pulling crazy stunts, trying to make me laugh. She is the apple of her grandfather's eye too. It was quite unexpected considering his attitude before she was born. He always spoils her when we go to visit. Maybe it's because she is his only granddaughter, but I think it's because she knows how to make him laugh.  
  
She is so smart, Hawkeye. I am so proud of her. Her kindergarten teacher tells me that she is one of the brightest children in the class. She is already reading. Every night when I tuck her in, I tell her that she can be anything she wants to be.  
  
Hawk, I am so sorry you haven't had the chance to see any of this. I don't know if you can ever forgive me for not telling you. I wouldn't blame you if you never did. The truth is, I was scared. I was afraid you might ask me to marry you. Afraid because I wasn't sure I was strong enough to say no. I love you Hawkeye, I always will, but I didn't want you to propose out of duty. I couldn't bear to be a burden to you. You deserve more than that, and so do I. You are a good man Hawkeye, but I don't know if we could make each other happy. After all that we have lived through, we deserve to be happy.  
  
If you don't reply to this letter, I promise I won't send another. I hope you are well, and that you have found some happiness.  
  
With love,  
  
Jo 


End file.
